Carmine is the color of Freedom
by SSGA
Summary: Just know Nephilim rising's "Carmine is the color of freedom" is back!  Of course with the author's permission. Don't believe? Go ask!
1. Chapter 1

_Summary_: It was a sequel to Silent Sacrifice Written by our dear SLoveless now known as Nephilim rising. I thought the story deserved to stay in fanfiction, so I went after it and found it in my files. Again thanks to our very dear Sloveless and Enjoy!

Sephiroth and Genesis travel to distant places, meet their fates and fight for their humanity.

_Disclaimer_: I own nothing or no one. And also the story is not changed a bit and also I ask from those who might have saved a copy from Silent Sacrifice to inform me and upload the story with Nephilim rising's permission.

_Pairings_: Sephiroth/Genesis

_A/N_: Warning: yaoi Sephiroth/Genesis. Light though, like always. Hard questions and hard choices. Bloody at times.

_**Carmine is the color of freedom.**_

Thy vows are all broken,

And light is thy fame:

I hear thy name spoken

And share in its shame.

_**Chapter I. Prelude.**_

The welkin above had a crimson tinge, a single zigzag among the fading blue. A small wisp of a new moon was barely visible among the white puffed clouds. They were sliding off to somewhere, hurried by the ruthless lash of cool wind.

This was not Gaia. This was a world with the name Sephiroth didn't know. Him and Genesis arrived there barely an hour ago, carried by the flow of Lifestream.

But it looked so like the planet that gave birth to him. Not that he felt any desire to return.

Gaia rejected him.

Sephiroth lay on the warm wet sand, his feet barely touching the cool of sea water. Small waves gently and lazily licked his heels, tickling his skin and rolling back. The beach was deserted; behind him the line of forest was dark in the distance, unfamiliar crooked trees bending over the ground and sweeping it with their long branches.

The air was full of strange foreign smells, all of them pleasant. And the faint whisper of the surf was a calming soothing caress to his ears.

No matter how much time passed Sephiroth would remember Jenova's raving, tearing his thoughts and mind asunder, albeit here she was no more.

Genesis was close; he could feel his lover's presence and knew that if he stretched out his arm he would be able to touch his palm.

"I am glad we left, Genesis," Sephiroth said without turning his head. "That life would have undone us."

"You speak as if I didn't know it." Genesis allowed a touch of supremacy to alter his melodic voice. "Although as many times as I reminded you, I'd say it again. This little journey would not be without a price."

"What price? We come to a new place with no names, with no pasts. We live dozens of different lives and flee before our nature can overtake us."

"True freedom?" His lover's voice was again carefree, almost playful. And his was a question, not a statement.

"Perhaps. And, perhaps, not."

"Implying…"

"Solitude is the worst cage one could think of." Sephiroth remembered his very clearly. It did feel as a cage, its rods driven through his soul as if it was flesh.

Genesis quietly laughed.

"And here I thought being dramatic was my role."

Sephiroth raised himself on the elbow, now facing his friend. He lay on his back, eyes closed, a wan smile caressing his lips. Weak sunrays were glistening on his wet auburn hair.

And his face was peaceful; peaceful at last. Sephiroth remembered his encounter in Modeoheim. Nothing of that sickly fervent passion remained; nothing of the hatred, nothing of the morbid pallor. He sometimes wondered how Genesis felt at that time; how it was to know that you were slowly dying…

His elbow sank deeply into the warm sand as his left hand gently slid along Genesis' neck. His skin was silky smooth with just two flaws Sephiroth grew to love. He had a scar on his shoulder, the one that started the degradation and another one on his neck, a recent addition that for some reasons wouldn't completely heal.

"You wanted to know how I found out about the Promised Land." Genesis' eyes opened, riveting on the pale face as the redhead spoke. Ardent overwhelming azure, looking into his very soul or such was Sephiroth's impression. He nodded wondering about his lover's sudden desire to share his memories. "When your cells cured me I found myself in the ashen wasteland of my doing. With all the bridges burnt, with Hollander gone, with my vengeance complete and dreams discarded my life had become quite aimless.

I still had a large number of copies at my command and I launched a couple of attacks on regional reactors. Only it didn't satisfy me at all.

I wanted more. I hated the ground I walked upon, I hated the air I breathed, I hated the landscape I saw. I felt caged. That was when I returned to my abandoned search of the gift since S-cells happened to be a wrong theory. Hours after hours I read _Loveless_, trying to find the weakness in its interpretation until I was suitably rewarded." Genesis raised himself on his elbow as well and cited with passion.

"_Legend shall speak_

_Of sacrifice at world's end_

_The wind sails over the water's surface_

_Quietly, but surely…_"

Sephiroth smirked.

"It tells nothing to me."

Genesis' fingers slid along his cheekbone.

"Water was the keyword. And Lifestream was the solution. Lifestream that carries us from one world to another. I returned to Banora ruin and underneath in its caverns found what I sought." And then all of a sudden his azure eyes flashed with genuine hatred. "The goddess discarded me though. Gaia wanted nothing to do with the wretched soul such as myself. She only promised she'd open the way so that sacrifice would be fulfilled." He closed his eyes, calming down, a sneer reappearing on his lips. "I only lacked a perfect monster to keep me company."

Sephiroth frowned.

"And so you came back."

"I planned my move carefully." Genesis carried on with the conversation. "All resources I had left were thrown into one last attack. I lured you out of Shin-Ra building. I waited for you to come to Nebelheim reactor. I revealed the truth so that you'd be broken to a point where you'd have no other choice but to join me in my venture." He leaned closer. "Only you snapped beyond that."

Sephiroth suddenly smirked, his lips curling more and more until he simply couldn't suppress a chuckle.

"Why are you so smug?" Genesis' eyebrows rose.

"Because of who we are." He replied. "We don't ask. We take."

Genesis laughed at that. Easily.

The lives they lived, with no real devotion, with no strong feelings attached, forced memories of their fall out of their minds for most of times. They fought countless wars without taking the trouble to find out about their origins; they intruded into lives of hundreds of people, like fleeting shadows in twilight, destroying or mending their souls.

They were restless wanderers, with no home to return to, with an alluring star of freedom to guide them.

Only how long could it really last?

Genesis pushed him back, claiming his lips with demand. Wet droplets streamed down his cheeks, his chiseled neck, landing on Sephiroth's skin, mixing with the kiss. Wet salty droplets. His tongue slid along soft fiery flesh, tasting tart smack of sea water it now had.

Genesis was the first one to move away, pressing his lips to Sephiroth's ear.

"We take…" His lover gently bit his earlobe. "I certainly like that. Because I _always_ get what I want."

By now Genesis knew all his weaknesses. Sephiroth closed his eyes, reveling in pleasure that felt like crackling of glowing embers.

It was a prelude for a game they both enjoyed. Just a simple prelude, but by the end of it Sephiroth could hardly think about anything else other than a mark that was definitely on the pale skin of his neck. He thought Genesis' lips were still there although they moved down finding another weak spot. Sephiroth moaned, fingers sinking into smooth deepening of his lover's arching back.

Genesis claimed his right then. He surrendered. On a tenantless shore of an unfamiliar world, under the setting sun, and this time wasn't his first nor was it his last.

Nebelheim taught him a lesson. If his lover didn't bother stopping him, for whatever selfish reasons he might have had, Sephiroth would have become a lifeless walking husk, an all-consuming void.

He surrendered. It no longer feared him. It no longer bothered him. Much…

It was painful at first but pain was something Sephiroth was taught to bare since his early childhood years. And then as Genesis pushed himself further, streams of bliss washed over his body, painting the darkening sky in vivid colors.

Every inch of him felt Genesis' presence. Every inch of him desired it, the fickle teasing feeling of lips on his sensitive skin, soft melodic moan, azure flash between the trembling half-closed eyelashes.

Sephiroth's neck arched, his head sinking into cooling warmth of sand, lips parting for the cry that never escaped them.

Genesis almost collapsed on top of him, disengaging. They were both breathing heavily by now, holding onto the short fragile moment when the rapture still flowed through their bodies. A larger wave hit the shore, fresh water sliding between his legs.

Sephiroth smirked for no reason at all. Perhaps, since he rarely expressed himself differently. This habit came from his early childhood years, years of pain and struggle as he tried to find himself in that world, growing to love his uniqueness.

After all he had nothing or no one to love at that time.

But it changed now…

Sephiroth's lips gently touched the scar on Genesis' neck as his tongue slid along the thin uneven line.

Genesis trembled slightly.

"How many times do I have to ask of you to be more careful?" His voice was muffled against his lover's skin.

Genesis stirred at once, raising himself on his palms.

"You are not my _mother_, Sephiroth." His voice was sharp.

A smirk and an arching silver eyebrow was an answer. Genesis' lips curved into an arrogant smile as he pushed himself off the sand and ascended into the air, leaving Sephiroth in the waterfall of jet-black feathers.

These emotional outbursts were always beyond him to understand.

But Sephiroth knew Genesis will soon be back. The songbird would return to its golden cage.

One wretched soul was bound to another.

Rising to his feet, Sephiroth stretched and walked into the fresh sea water. He needed to wash the sand off his body and his silver hair. Once it reached his chest he dived abruptly and into the sea depth.

Dusk. Sea.

Genesis.

Freedom…

_Was it freedom that he sought all his life?_

Sephiroth was not at fault. Genesis was waiting for him on the shore, fully dressed with a smirk on his lips as he caught sight of him. Sephiroth almost felt his gaze sliding along his frame from top to toe. Genesis' eyes continued to watch him silently as he picked up his leather attire and gracefully slid into it.

By the time he was ready to leave the sun almost hid behind the sealine. They could either travel in utter darkness without the knowledge where to go or find a place to spend the night at.

Genesis preferred the second option.

"Let's find a cave in those rocks." He gestured to the nearby gathering of cliffs.

And so they rose into midair, leaving black feathers scattered on the peaceful dusky shore.

… The cave they found was a small one but since it was high above the water's surface waves never reached it. It was completely dry inside, although with the ground being hard and uneven one would definitely not call it comfortable. Spreading their coats they put aside their swords and lay down, facing the entrance. Sephiroth put his chin on the back of his palms, turning his eyes towards the glistening sea water. It was completely dark by then, thin crescent shining dimly behind light smoky clouds. Weak waves smashed against the rocks underneath and the sound of it was calming; Sephiroth's eyes slowly closed, the landscape disappearing replaced by utter blackness…

"Do you remember Banora?" Genesis suddenly asked, his voice breaking the silence into myriads of melodic sounds. Then he chuckled, almost at once. "I know, wrong question. You remember everything."

Sephiroth suppressed a shrug. His lover answered the question.

"There is an apple tree there still. Just a single tree on the barren." Genesis continued. "The one that has been my pride is long but gone."

"You are still attached to that place, no matter how far we run." Sephiroth smirked a bit. "No matter how hard you pretend you hate everything about Gaia."

"Perhaps," Genesis agreed easily. "It holds a lot of memories, of me and Angeal mostly."

Sephiroth opened his eyes, gingerly, as if afraid that even something as simple as this could ruin the moment.

"How did you find out he fell?"

"Hollander told me." Genesis quietly sighed. "Only at that time it hardly meant anything to me. I was at Modeoheim then, as close to discovering the cure as I've never been before."

Sephiroth hemmed.

"Angeal's dream had been fulfilled… Or so I always wished to believe."

"When we join the Lifestream the three of us would be reunited once again." His lover stirred, trying to get more comfortable. "Then we'll have the chance to find out."

After remembering Angeal Sephiroth had no desire to continue the conversation and soon he was slowly falling into the blackness of slumber, with no strange dreams of his to alter it this time…

When Sephiroth woke up it was still dark, way before dawn. Weak rays of moonlight penetrated utter blackness and bathing in it the rocks became silvery.

It took him moments to realize what woke him up. It was the smell. Sickening sweet and heady smell that haunted him since that fateful encounter in Modeoheim filled his nostrils.

Smell of Genesis' blood.

His eyes riveted on his lover immediately. He was awake, azure eyes shining dimly, his skin paler than usual, covered in sweat.

"Genesis, what's wrong?"

"I cut my palm on the rock," his reply was deadpan. And yet Sephiroth could feel there was something else on redhead's mind. "And I had a nightmare."

"What nightmare?" He immediately demanded.

Genesis motioned to get up but Sephiroth almost pushed him back, with force.

"Answer me."

For a moment his lover fought himself, obviously struggling between a true response and an arrogant excuse.

Genesis chose the first.

"About Banora."

It was not completely true that their pasts were forgotten.

Now and then memories would come back. Nebelheim, Midgar and Banora, the clear-cut trail of blood and madness.

"You never talked about it before." Emerald eyes with silent question looked directly into azure depths.

Perhaps, if it was any other time Genesis would have refused again. But right now it felt as if something snapped inside him. His palm absently wiped his damp forehead, long refined fingers slightly trembling.

"I slit my mother's throat." He began with ruthless straightforwardness. "She knew it was coming, although my steps were light and darkness was impenetrable. She whispered my name before I was done. She wasn't begging for her life." Genesis' words were toneless, barely audible. "She was begging me to stop for later… later I would understand what I had done."

At times like that Sephiroth felt like he was talking to himself. He silently motioned for his lover to continue.

"It was easy after that. All that followed was nothing compared to my first doing. I hid in black flames of my hatred, shrouded in madness. I was a monster." Genesis was shaking now. "But I have nothing to shield me any longer."

That he didn't and that was the price.

Sephiroth seized his shoulders, looking into lifeless azure depths.

"You don't need to hide," he whispered with conviction. "You can tell me anything, knowing that I am not going anywhere."

"Of course you aren't," his lover's voice was again full of cruel mockery, "because like me you have nowhere else to go."

His friend's palm clutched onto his shoulder. The smell became sharper and a sticky wet liquid tickled his skin.

Sephiroth's fingers slid along Genesis' damp cheek.

"It is of no consequences now," he whispered, leaning closer and kissing him. Genesis responded with hunger, with fervent all-consuming passion.

To Sephiroth it felt like tasting hellish flames.


	2. Chapter 2

_Summary_: A sequel to Silent Sacrifice S/G ending. Sephiroth and Genesis travel to distant places, meet their fates and fight for their humanity.

_Disclaimer_: I own nothing or no one.

_Pairings_: Sephiroth/Genesis.

Read and enjoy!

_**Chapter II.**_

_**Better late than never.**_

Sephiroth didn't sleep at all that night. Genesis eventually surrendered to slumber, fiery azure eyes closing, shaking body going still in his arms. But Sephiroth couldn't. He was looking down at his lover's pale refined features, feeling his head against his bare chest and soft auburn hair touching his skin.

He was never good at comforting anyone. It felt awkward. His lover looked so vulnerable and fragile, like a porcelain doll. Sephiroth couldn't force himself to touch him even gently. It seemed if he did, Genesis would just break into myriads of shimmering fragments.

Genesis Rhapsodos. A fallen angel.

Gust of wind got up through the entrance hole, disheveling their hair, silver locks falling onto Genesis' forehead.

Sephiroth was always careful when it came to revealing his own feelings, his own past, and his own weaknesses. He always kept a part of his soul to himself, knowing that Genesis did so as well. It was a tacit consent they stuck to, it was freedom they both allowed for each other.

He learned to surrender; he even allowed strong emotions overtake him, but this…

His soul never yields. Or so he always thought.

His eyes returned to Genesis. His chest rose and fell each movement in time with faint breathing. He was peaceful again, nightmares sparing him for the rest of this night.

_Fallen… fallen… fallen…_

Perhaps he had to be the first one to make such sacrifice; perhaps it was time to share some parts of him he never thought of sharing with anyone. To certain extend… perhaps…

Sephiroth simply didn't know...

The city was huge. It was sprawled on two hills and cut by the river right in the middle. From above it looked like a motley coverlet, spread on the grass.

As they stood facing it the city changed into a picturesque view, bathing in bright sunshine.

They found it easily, penetrating its defenses, unseen, unnoticed. Since last night neither of them spoke about Genesis' nightmare. His lover had no desire to share anything else, and Sephiroth felt it was not his right to intrude. If Genesis wanted he'd speak. And certainly this was not the time to dwell on their pasts. It was a new life, new beginning. Sephiroth had no idea what they were going to do. Genesis didn't either.

And for what it was worth, it didn't matter. They'll learn the language; they'll intrude into its life and would be gone before long.

As any other place they've been to, they didn't belong here.

But Sephiroth was still reluctant to accept the thought that they belonged nowhere. He would look for his home for as long as need be and no matter what Genesis was going to say.

The streets of city with the name they yet had to find out were crowded. Men and women in strange clothing were bustling about, pathways were wide and clean and fresh air smelled pleasantly.

To Sephiroth's surprise the language resembled their own, very much actually. Usually it would take time to learn the new one. It was easier for Sephiroth since his memory was photographic. It turned out to be harder for Genesis; he even remembered a couple of awkward situations his lover got himself into. One of them involved calling swords broomsticks thus ruining quite inspiring speech he was giving.

He couldn't help but smile at the memory.

"So what is your first impression?" he heard Genesis asking as they chose the narrow street at random.

"I would say that the last war occurred here a long time ago. Their defenses…"

His redheaded lover quietly laughed, interrupting.

"Professional opinion comes before personal. As always."

Sephiroth frowned, silver eyebrows knitting into thin line.

"Not different from any other city we have been to, if you so wish. Looks like a remote place on Gaia to me."

Genesis sighed.

"I can't disagree."

Sephiroth looked around. Their battle attire stood out. Here and there he would catch glimpses of people staring, and children pointing their fingers to them. He mentioned it to Genesis, but his lover simply shrugged. He wore his slightly disdainful expression; it always crept onto his lover's face when he wasn't impressed.

And so they went further and further. Sephiroth was now glancing round from time to time only. He was thinking. To the people here he was no perfect general, he was no fallen hero. He was nothing, another silhouette in the crowd. And he could not help but feel that it satisfied him; no one expected certain things of him, no one looked up to him and certainly no one could forsake him should he fail.

Only… only something wasn't right. Something he yet had to think about, a lot.

Finally they came to stand by what looked like an inn. Genesis noticed it and silently gestured to the three-storey building. Sephiroth certainly had no objections. They made their way across the street to the entrance door.

A slender dark-haired woman from the crowd shot a glance at Genesis sparkles of desire dancing in her black eyes, her smile a shameless suggestion. It didn't escape Sephiroth and his eyes immediately fixed on his lover's face. It showed nothing; he seemed to be absorbed in thought and didn't even notice her.

"How many lovers did you have?" Sephiroth asked, following the dark-haired woman with his eyes until she disappeared in the crowd.

Genesis smirked at this unexpected question, stopping by the entrance door.

"Lots." His smirk turned into a sneer. "I hope you don't believe I was _that _patient. Or is it jealousy I always thought you were incapable of feeling?"

Sephiroth hemmed with fastidious note.

"Call it curiosity."

Genesis tilted his head, his silver earring sparkling among the auburn.

"Lots." He repeated curtly. "My last was a love-sick third who became my copy shortly afterwards." Silver eyebrows arched a bit defiantly. Genesis felt that. "Oh, I know it very well you never particularly cared about little pleasures life could offer, but… we are different. I bet I even was the first one to kiss you."

Unexpected pain rose in his chest at those words.

"And what did you expect of me?" Sephiroth's voice grew colder, emerald eyes turning into glowing whirlpools. He simply ignored Genesis' attempt to interrupt him. "I was injected with mako when I was barely one year old. I knew pain before I learned how to speak, how to walk, how to handle my first sword. And pain taught me to need _no one_; it taught me to feel _nothing_. I took my first life long before I shared my first kiss. I learned to deal with enemies long before I knew what friendship meant." His voice was as a stream of icy cold water by now. "Such was the price for the fame I was bestowed with."

When he finished what seemed to be the longest confession he ever dared to voice out silence ensued. He didn't wish to look at his lover lifting his chin and following the pattern of sliding clouds above. He kept his expression as dispassionate as possible.

It felt like drawing a steel rod out of his flesh. It felt like taking off his clothes in front of a crowd. It…

It felt so until Genesis moved closer, gently running his thumb along the back of his palm.

His head jerked eyes riveting on his lover's face. Genesis wasn't sneering, he wasn't even smiling. If he said something, at least a word, Sephiroth knew he would find it hard to forgive him. But his lover just looked at him, sparks of sunlight dancing in azure depths, somehow feeling it was the only consolation he'd ever need.

Sephiroth knew they were drawing attention. After all they were standing in the busy street, touching each other too explicitly for mere friends. With the tail of his eyes he caught a glimpse of people whispering to one another. He let go of Genesis' hand and took a step back.

The redhead gave him another intent look before suddenly laughing, quietly.

"Gaia, I've just realized something." His face was showing clear signs of surprise as if he was asking himself why this thought never occurred to him before. Sephiroth's eyebrows arched; he was grateful his lover wasn't going to continue _that_ conversation. "You have never been on a date, haven't you?"

Amusement slowly crept onto Sephiroth's face.

"Don't you think it's a little too late for that?"

Genesis shook his head, auburn hair playing vivid colors in sunshine. A way too familiar playful smile touched his sensual lips.

"Better late than never."

… Sephiroth felt rising curiosity. It was a state he rarely found himself in. He had none of it even when Zack invited him to that café at Costa-del-Sol although it was not his habit to go out with someone often. He'd done it with both Genesis and Angeal occasionally, but all of it was on friendly terms.

Now he didn't know what to expect of Genesis. His lover was gifted with a dramatic, strikingly vivid imagination and a refined taste. Something simple would not satisfy him. It had to be grandiose.

Leaving him in the inn Genesis took off somewhere. His friend even contrived to persuade him to wait in the room for his return. And so leaning against the headboard of a huge bed and absently flipping through pages of an old book Sephiroth fought the rising feeling that distracted his thoughts, thus having trouble focusing on the content of a piece he was reading…

Shifting, he finally put the book aside and gently hauled his hair from underneath his back, letting it cascade freely over the coverlet. Sephiroth's imagination couldn't supply him with decent ideas for he knew he'd fail to guess anyway.

Closing his eyes he tried to banish the persistent thought, but soon realized he failed again. He got up, stretching, and came to stand by the tall window. He let his gaze slide along a thin line of green trees just by the entrance to the inn and turned his eyes on the street full of people in a hurry. They've been to many places, to many cities, like Midgar, like the one right before his eyes; and though the shell changed, people never did.

This city was a lot different from Midgar he spent most of his days at. It looked like one huge park to him: too many trees, too many flowers. Sephiroth could certainly grow to enjoy it but the part of him that would always remain the perfect General told of nothing but its weaknesses.

The door to their room opened and Genesis' frame slipped inside. Sephiroth didn't need to turn around to know it was his lover. He learned to distinguish the sound of his steps from any other sound in the world. His mako enhanced hearing – if he concentrated enough – could make out such clear details as a shift of weight from heel to toes as his lover strode gracefully and confidently through the room to where he stood.

Sephiroth couldn't suppress a shiver when Genesis' strong palm settled on his bare shoulder.

"Aren't you curious?" A low slightly mocking whisper.

Sephiroth was, but his lover didn't need to know. He shrugged with as much indifference as he could muster considering the current state he was in and all too aware of Genesis' palms on his shoulders, urging him to turn around.

He obeyed. On the dark green coverlet of the bed lay two black pairs of shirts and pants, strange in fashion. Both shirts were loose with wide sleeves and high collars.

"That's what you are going to wear." Genesis' voice rang from behind.

Sephiroth hemmed, folding his arms.

"And where are we going tonight?"

"To watch the ballet." Genesis moved away to take his leather coat off. Sleeveless turtleneck followed. Sephiroth watched as the redhead swiftly undid his leather pants.

"Stop staring and change, _Sephy_," Genesis laughed with an obvious mocking note. "The show starts in half an hour."

He shook his head and picked up the strange attire. To avoid unnecessary temptations he decided to change in the narrow bathroom. Without even taking the trouble to look at his reflection in the small mirror after he was done Sephiroth stepped back into the room.

Genesis stood in the doorway, waiting, his lips curling into a soft smile at the sight of him.

"You know, you look gorgeous," redhead's voice rang genuine.

Sephiroth returned the smile.

"And you look… different." He watched Genesis' face and sparks of merriment lit up in emerald depths.

"I expected nothing else." His lover answered with a soft snort.

He picked up two tickets from the nightstand and pocketed them. After that Genesis gracefully turned around to face him again.

"Shall we?" Azure eyes looked directly into his own as his lover extended an arm, offering Sephiroth his palm.

He looked at it with a share of uncertainty before finally placing his fingers on top. Smiling, Genesis squeezed them gently and guided him to the door. The solemnity of the whole act almost made Sephiroth laugh.

It was late outside; the sky darkened and all lights along the street were lit. Cool strong breeze threw a handful of dry leaves into their faces. Sephiroth absently reached to keep his hair from scattering in every direction.

They turned to the wide crowded street, decorated in garlands of glowing lights. People in similar clothing passed them, chattering with excitement on a language that resembled their native. Sephiroth let go of Genesis' hand in order not to attract too much unwanted attention. Traveling from one world to another he learned that their relationship was considered strange, unnatural, and wrong at times. It never bothered him. He thought himself strong enough to set his own rules.

The road went uphill, the scenery changing. Grand fancy looking houses rose on both sides, surrounded by low metallic fences. It reminded him of President Shin-Ra summer residence. He chuckled at the thought and Genesis' eyes immediately riveted on him.

"Since we are so to speak on a date," his voice had a didactic touch to it, "I think an explanation will not hurt. First date is about getting to know and impressing each other."

Sephiroth smirked, meeting his gaze.

"I think I'll pass. I already know more than enough about you."

Genesis chuckled with a teasing half-smile.

"Now you ruined it."

Sephiroth lifted his chin, turning aside and letting his gaze slide along the mansions. Perhaps they were of some architectural value, but he couldn't say for sure. Sightseeing wasn't the pastime he could indulge himself during his years in Shin-Ra. Even in Wutai he barely had spare time for anything besides war.

"I hope I didn't ruin it to a point when _you_ can't fix it."

Genesis' fingers brushed his hand, a touch so faint even he almost missed it.

"Fortunately," he whispered in a low voice, "there is nothing you can't fix on your own… later."

That voice… it never stopped to amaze Sephiroth what sensations Genesis' voice could stir in him.

"Is this how all first dates end?"

They've just passed the huge group of people gathered around something neither of them could make out so dense the crowd was. Perhaps it was one of those street jesters; he never saw any in Midgar, but of all places he's been to Midgar turned out to be one of the ugliest and most unwelcome.

"I don't know about all," Genesis admitted honestly, "but mine always did."

A mocking smile snaked Sephiroth's lips as he turned to face his lover again so that he could see it.

"Then I'll have to make sure this one becomes an exclusion."

Genesis accepted the challenge with eagerness.

"Hm… and I'll make sure you regret every word you have just said."

Ardent azure eyes flashed in approaching darkness. Sephiroth just shook his head, smiling.

… The theater Genesis took him to turned out to be a gorgeous building with four columns of white marble in front supporting an elaborately designed and ornamented roof. It stood in the middle of the square by the huge fountain shaped as a three-headed beast Sephiroth didn't recognize. Water was flowing from each of the three mouths. Mingling with the crowd of men and women, they approached the marble staircase and ascended.

"Gentlemen, your tickets," polite woman's voice interrupted Sephiroth's contemplation.

Genesis extended them with a smile and the blonde returned it quite eagerly. Sephiroth smirked to himself: there was a part of Genesis that will never change.

"Welcome to the Autumn Dance premiere," she motioned inside and returned the tickets. Sephiroth walked through huge glass door, his lover following right behind.

"I certainly am glad this is not _Loveless_ again," Sephiroth always found it hard to resist mocking Genesis.

A shrug and a sniff was an answer.

Their seats were in the first row on a balcony. Sephiroth occupied his, relaxing in a comfortable chair of red velvet at once. Genesis followed his example and neither of then spoke until the ballet itself began.

At first it didn't impress him so more than he watched the stage he was contemplating Genesis. From the tail of his eyes he saw how his expression slowly changed from rather indifferent to dreamy, how his eyes got a faraway look, how his long fingers began to move in time with music.

But then the dance itself gripped his attention utterly. First it was the music. Rising from the low trembling depths to high, almost playful trills, changing from slow wistful longing to fast lively and blithe rhythm, it overwhelmed, it exalted and dispirited, it teased, it promised, it misguided. Feelings it stirred in him were unfamiliar, confusing even. Those emotions were strong but so very different from passion.

His gaze shifted to dancers and soon enough he was mesmerized by their liquid-like graceful movements. The dance was a struggle not less passionate than the fight to the very death. They looked like puppets to him, obedient playthings, moving in time with the music that bent them to its will. Dozens of white frames and among them one in scarlet, as a drop of blood on snow.

Subconsciously he drew forward watching every alteration on the stage.

It intoxicated him. It tantalized him. It felt as a teasing touch to his sharpened senses; as a fickle flutter of shadows in the corner of his eyes, so fleeting, so wavering.

It felt…

The icy walls of his cage cracking, collapsing…

A precarious sensation of finding something missing…

It felt… it felt…

Like…

Unable to find a suitable explanation to how he felt Sephiroth abruptly rose to his feet and left the balcony. His heart was pounding so loudly the thought it could be heard despite the triumphant crescendo. Once in the dark corridor he leaned on the wall hiding his face in his palms.

What did it feel like?

He knew no answer.

Immersed in his attempts to comprehend his new emotions Sephiroth missed the moment when Genesis slipped out of the door and joined him. His hands gently removed his palms so that their eyes could meet.

"You felt it, didn't you?" He whispered with passion, his long fingers sliding through shimmering silver hair that shrouded Sephiroth's frame, stopping right where his heart was violently throbbing. Sephiroth forced himself to nod. "The beauty of this world. The reverse side to monstrosity."

Suddenly the redhead took a step back.

"No matter what I've done or what I am about to do this part of me will always be alive," Genesis lips barely moved, mouthing each word.

Darkness. Azure flash of mako enhanced eyes.

And a muffled lamentable cry of a violin behind the closed doors.

Sephiroth hung his head. What should… could he say?

Genesis spared him of seeking an answer by suddenly asking another question.

"Those words you spoke at mako reactor… Did you mean them?"

Sephiroth frowned, remembering…

A sigh escaped his lips. Still holding his face averted, he replied, unable to lie or even tell the half-truth so unnerved he felt by the inner turmoil the dance and Genesis' words stirred in him.

"I did and I didn't. At that time I thought love was all about acceptance and certainly I could have accepted you even… even with the wing. But love is so much more I yet had to learn." His voice was barely a whisper now. Leaning on the wall as if it was his only protection, he resumed speaking, ready to raise his shields at once upon hearing a venomous response from Genesis' lips. "You realize I still don't know what it is, don't you?"

Sephiroth hoped it didn't sound too weak, because it was the vulnerable part of him. Frozen inside as a block of ice, strained as a stretched string, he waited until a soft laugh rang in utter silence, melodic as a chime of little bells.

"Certainly." Sephiroth felt Genesis' body move closer, strong arm wrap around his neck and another one plunge into the silver waterfall. "I always found your ambivalent innocence… arousing."

Genesis' voice was low, slightly hoarse… suggestive.

"Here? Now?" Sephiroth breathed out as skilled fingers gently slid along the crook of his neck, tucking loose silver strands behind his ear.

"Are you ashamed, Sephiroth?"

"I don't…"

Genesis interrupted him by mouthing his lips, his lover's lithe body firmly pressing his own to the wall. Whatever words he was going to say sank in the fervent stream that disembogued into his body as Genesis' tongue joined his in a dance not less passionate than the one they have just seen…

Lights cut through his eyes as white-hot flashes; his eyelids closed, instinctively shielding him from the source of undesired pain. Genesis hugged him even tighter, pushing him into the wall with even more force and determinations.

Muffled voices filled his ears, desultory sounds echoing through his passion hazed mind. Sephiroth felt they stared, but it barely registered in his thoughts for Genesis lips slid, kissing the sensitive spot between the jaw line and earlobe.

His head rested against the wall, shameless moan escaping his parted lips.

Sephiroth didn't care.

It felt like defying the whole world.

It felt like balancing on the tightrope.

It felt like… freedom.

_What was freedom?_

… Genesis was laughing. Perhaps Sephiroth has never heard him laugh as joyously. Leaning on the edge of the fountain, arms folded and legs crossed, he was quietly watching his lover's emotional outburst. Cold wind was playing with his silver hair, raising it as a curtain all around him.

"Have you seen their faces?" Genesis' voice was full of disdainful mockery as he struggled to speak.

A wan smile touched the edges of Sephiroth's lips. The residue of emotions was still coursing through thoughts and more mundane parts of him, his heartbeat heretofore faster than usual.

"I believe that was too much of a public display."

Genesis bended over the edge of the fountain, dipping his fingers into silvery streamlets of water.

"I never thought you could be ashamed of the only lover you have ever had."

"I am not," he shrugged. "I just don't understand the necessity of… such actions."

A wry smile on sensual lips.

"There was none. I merely followed my feelings."

Sephiroth hung his head.

"There was something else. And," he added with resolve, "don't tell me I am wrong."

The redhead sighed, watching the flow of water from the mouth of a beast.

"Still clueless. I wonder if it can be changed." He cupped his hands filling them. "This was my way of saying I am not going to be sharing you with anyone."

Sephiroth's head jerked, emerald eyes flashing, dangerously.

"In turn I wish to believe you had no other lovers since Nebelheim."

"Finally you admitted you could feel… jealousy," Genesis chuckled with satisfaction.

But Sephiroth just smirked, shaking his head.

"Call it… precaution."

Genesis' hands rose and fell, as if in dismay, clear droplets running down his long fingers and landing at his feet. He took a step towards Sephiroth with a regal toss of his head that raised auburn hair all over his face, azure flashing somewhere in between. A smug smile curved the edges of his feminine lips, barely seen among thick tresses.

He could watch these displays for hours. But his lover didn't let him.

"So… did you like your first date?" Genesis joined their hands. Sephiroth nodded. "And are you up to the challenge or ready to give in?"

His lover pulled him away from the fountain, but before it disappeared from his view Sephiroth glanced over his shoulder.

Two leaves were floating on the surface of fretted water. Wind blew, whirling them and they obeyed, unable to withstand against it. They reminded him of something, someone… only he couldn't quite comprehend what it was…


	3. Chapter 3

Summary: A sequel to Silent Sacrifice S/G ending. Sephiroth and Genesis travel to distant places, meet their fates and fight for their humanity.

Disclaimer: I own nothing or no one. Why would I need to, anyways?

Pairings: Sephiroth/Genesis

A/N: warning: dark themes, hints of madness, hard questions.

Genesis' memories, part 1.

_**Chapter III.**_

_**Shards. (part I).**_

Genesis lifted his head and looked at Sephiroth. His silver-haired lover was peacefully sleeping beside him. They got back from their first date so to speak, and certainly the fallen general could not resist his passion for long. Genesis' fingers touched Sephiroth's face, gently ran up and down his cheekbone.

So smooth, so perfect, so… angelic.

He belonged to Genesis. No one had ever touched that perfect body the way Genesis did, no one was ever able to possess it the way he did, no one ever bothered to see what was behind that flawless mask.

Genesis' hand gently touched his chest, feeling steady slow heartbeat underneath his palm.

He used to think there was nothing but ice underneath that impeccable pale skin. And there were times when he was ruthless and cold; but only since life itself was ruthless.

Genesis averted his eyes, looked at the ceiling. He knew what he'd see next.

Shards, sharp as if made of ice, in his own heart. They were memories, those of his past he could not forget. They were his weakness, but Sephiroth did not need to know how often he actually saw them during sleepless nights when they resurfaced from oblivion to haunt him. Weakness was too much of a luxury for him.

Shards. Memories. Pieces of his past.

Genesis couldn't see Sephiroth's face any longer. He remembered…

_*flashback*_

Weakness.

Genesis was paler than usual. Resting on his palms against the white ceramic sink he was fighting sudden weakness. Hot, bitter lump of bile formed in his throat, but he forced himself to swallow it. He would never show his vulnerability in front of silver-haired youth. After all how old could they be at that time? Sixteen? Seventeen?

Sephiroth was leaning on the edge of a bathtub and in the small mirror that hung just above the sink Genesis could see reflection of his emerald eyes. What hid in their depths? Pity? No, understanding.

"Is this your first… veritable kill?" His words rang quietly in Genesis' ears.

Redhead nodded, filling his mouth with fresh cold water and swallowing hard. It helped.

"Until today I've been dealing with just monsters. "

They both fell silent. After washing his face Genesis finally recovered. Satisfied he brushed a single golden wet lock off his forehead. If memories could be forgotten as easily…

"And when was… your first time?" Genesis looked over his shoulder.

"When I was seven." No shame, no remorse. A flat, deadpan reply… almost. Genesis didn't miss the broken-hearted note, hidden somewhere deep in his smooth voice.

They returned to the room he was sharing with Angeal at that time. His friend wasn't home, perhaps, on his assignment, and so Genesis climbed into his bed, motioning for Sephiroth to get comfortable on Angeal's. Silver-haired youth took a seat on the edge, his back straight as an arrow. Genesis on the other side hated formality, immediately taking his coat and boots off and stretching with genuine pleasure. Another tiresome day was over…

"Would you like me to stay here all night?" If it wasn't pronounced with such indifference Genesis would have taken it as a suggestion. Their eyes met. "Nightmares." Sephiroth explained. "At first you will have nightmares."

Redhead shrugged. He could welcome his friend's company.

"Sure. But I am going to read."

The silver-haired youth nodded, relaxing a bit. Genesis took a book, opened it and began reading aloud. When he left Banora he took some of his favorite tomes with him to brighten up long evenings. Somehow he had no desire to spend them as other SOLDIER did. Their noisy parties were too crude and simple for his refined taste.

Sephiroth shared the same opinion.

And so Genesis read; from time to time he would glance at his friend. Sephiroth looked thoughtful, but detached, and he couldn't quite make out how much of it all the silver-haired youth heard. An enigma. Fascinating, captivating by its uncovered depth.

Did he like listening to Genesis? Did he understand the beauty of those words?

Sephiroth's pale refined face was unreadable, lips pressed together. Why was he always so serious, so… restrained? Half a year had passed since Genesis won that spar, and yet little seemed to change.

Suddenly Genesis put the book aside and asked.

"Why aren't you smiling? Ever?" He shrugged, emerald eyes hazed over with confusion. "I want you to smile."

At first Sephiroth fought himself, his amazement, his utterly human reaction to smile at redhead's naïve demand. But then gave up, sighing quietly. And there it was on his lips, soft and a bit bashful as a first snowdrop. His smile.

"Is that better?"

Although Sephiroth's eyes and voice were slightly mocking him, that smile was simple and genuine. And Genesis understood he was cursed. He fell in love with that smile.

Genesis stirred, closing his eyes. Yes, it was the first shard, always the first. He couldn't quite remember what was before those times.

And then another memory came…

_*flashback*_

Denial.

Sephiroth raised himself on his elbow and flipped the page of a book he was reading for the last two hours.

Genesis watched his every move s if afraid to miss a single detail: emerald flash between his half-closed eyelids, trembling of those long ethereal fingers, chains of silver sparks in his long hair as Sephiroth instinctively threw his head back.

To Genesis Sephiroth was perfection incarnate. His unusual flawless beauty embodied images poetry stirred in his mind. As long as redhead could remember himself he searched for such perfection, finding it in just one person who lay in front of him, unreachable even if all that separated them were mere inches.

"What are you reading?" Genesis asked, stretching on black leather couch, and adding at once. "I am bored."

Sephiroth hemmed.

"History of Wutai."

"The war starts in several days, we are being sent to the front lines. Is this the reason?"

A single graceful nod. He was silent.

Genesis threw his head back onto the soft pillows, looking up at the ceiling.

"You always want to be perfect. Is this all you value?"

Sephiroth took his eyes off the book. Their gazes met… such innocence. Genesis quietly gasped.

"Perfection, yes," a wan smirk, "and silence."

Redhead snorted. What else could he expect?

Sephiroth resumed reading to himself, flipping pages from time to time and brushing unruly silver strands off his forehead.

Genesis returned to his pointless contemplation, watching every alteration in his pose. Sephiroth was beautiful worthy of an artists' brush or sculptor's chisel to capture him in his fragile simplicity and… yes, innocence.

Genesis knew Sephiroth had no lovers. He was as an angel carved from pure marble. But life brings about change.

Genesis' mind was suddenly set. Stretching lazily he slipped off the couch and headed for the switch. He shot another glance at his friend and pressed the small white button.

Darkness fell, and immediately Sephiroth's eyes, eyes that bore such an impossibly rich color of spring leaves, riveted on him. Confusion flickered in their enigmatic depth.

"I was reading, Genesis."

Gods, such blindness, such naïveté. How could he be so ambiguous? Sephiroth took people's lives, he was used to seeing violence, he was fearless, and still could not understand simple natural things. He didn't see _how_ Genesis desired him.

"I am tired, Sephiroth."

His silver-haired friend put the book aside and shrugged.

"You may rest here," he rose; each movement was graceful and smooth as a slow stream of silver water.

But Genesis didn't even attempt to move. He just stood in the doorway, leaning on the wall; a sly smile played across his lips. He simply couldn't hold it back seeing genuine amusement in emerald eyes.

Sephiroth still did not understand. Gaia, it aroused.

"Genesis, what…"

He took a short step forward, arms slid around chiseled neck, plunging into waterfall of virgin silver. Genesis kissed him with passion, with demand, feeling his faint breath, his perturbation. Sephiroth froze as an icy shard, cold, unresponsive…

Gaia, he had to be patient. Perhaps, it was the first time anyone kissed him, but it was hard.

Genesis reluctantly moved away, met Sephiroth's gaze with defiance. Those eyes… Genesis could drown in his inhumanly bright emerald eyes.

"What are you…"

Genesis touched Sephiroth's lips with his fingertips, let them slide along their perfect bow. Silver-haired fell silent, his lips parting; the touch was definitely giving him pleasure. Bashfully Sephiroth's palms settled on Genesis' slim waist, his eyes closed as he trustfully drew forward. He waited for Genesis to kiss him again.

Their lips touched, hesitantly at first, and then – brushing aside all doubts – with fervent passion. Genesis could feel his response, so childlike, naïve, maladroit, as a first step of an infant, but, Gaia, he never felt like that before, kissing anyone. Even through all the clothes that separated them Genesis felt Sephiroth's body tremble…

Last thoughts about patience flew asunder as golden leaves caught in a storm. Faint scent of bergamot mint intoxicated. Perfect bow of Sephiroth's lips between his own stirred the anticipation of something utterly inimitable. Waterfall of silver on his forehead pleasantly tickled Genesis' skin…

Sephiroth slightly sagged in his embrace, and Genesis moved away just a bit. His lips slid along the curve of marble neck, tasting his skin, its warmth, its irrefutable perfection… Faint moan that escaped Sephiroth's lips sounded as a melodic chord in Genesis' ears…

Two bodies entwined in one; silver mixed with flaming red.

Genesis was close to bliss then.

Genesis thought it would last an eternity…

Genesisreturned his gaze to Sephiroth's peaceful face. Everything started on that ill-fated night, or so was Genesis' impression. It was an endless battle for him; Genesis' pride fought against pride, arrogance against craving. Sephiroth was the most desirable and unattainable person, and he simply could not give up.

Then came war and rivalry. Genesis couldn't stand being in a shadow of a friend who wounded his pride once. And yet he fought, he was so close to his victory when the world shattered all his dreams and turned them to ash.

Two days. All he lacked were those laughable two days.

_*flashback*_

Rivalry.

Genesis was casually leaning on the wall waiting to be called when his time to receive his reward came. Angeal was next to him, oblivious to the inner struggle redhead was going through. His friend's stoic face was stern; he had that aura of pride around him. Only people who believed they had honorably served their duty could possess it.

Genesis didn't care about duty. He could only think of Sephiroth who stood in the far end of the hall surrounded by huge crowd. His refined face was a usual stone mask as he answered countless questions in front of media and other high-ranking military officials. He was the newly promoted Shin-Ra General, the hero of the day, the rising sun. All eyes were riveted on his lean slender frame in full battle attire, all ears glued to each word said in that smooth polite voice, all smiles, shy, adoring or clearly suggestive flashed at him. Genesis was nothing but _**one of**_ those many. Sephiroth was the _**one**_.

Yes, Genesis envied; and, yes, he knew it was petty. But how could he run from those questions that swarmed his mind like annoying butterflies? Why? Why was Sephiroth promoted to General and Genesis stood among the lowly members of Shin-Ra army waiting for his turn to receive a stupid award for… what was it? For honor and bravery? Didn't they fight together? Didn't they spill Wutai blood? Didn't they take villages and bend cities to their will?

Genesis' fists clenched, anger slowly rising. His friend would expect of him to be proud. But how could he be sincere if it was supposed to be him standing by Sephiroth's side or even in his place?

"Genesis, you look pale. Are you all right?" Angeal's concerned voice reached his ears. Redhead barely nodded unable to take his eyes off lean silver-haired frame. Sephiroth turned his head, perhaps feeling his burning gaze. He caught a glimpse of emerald flame. And even now Genesis couldn't help but notice that Sephiroth was gorgeous. He couldn't help but feel an overwhelming desire to kiss him, to claim him in front of them all.

But Genesis knew that if he ever demanded Sephiroth's love the star of his glory would have to fade first…

_*flashback*_

Dust.

It… hurt. It hurt to a point when Genesis had to bite his lower lip until he felt blood on his tongue. Dozens of sharp needles punctured his skin, pain rising and subsiding in agonizingly slow rhythm. It felt as if he carried a maggot, a fetus of a new being under his skin, and that being was slowly trying to free itself from the shell of Genesis' body.

Clutching onto blankets in utter darkness of his bedroom, covered in sticky cold sweat Genesis was fighting overwhelming fear. What was there, inside him?

Darkness was chocking. Darkness was impenetrable as if he was buried alive. He wished to scream but his mouth was dry, and throat unresponsive, laughing at his pathetic attempts to call for him. To call for Sephiroth.

They just had a conversation on the roof. Sephiroth had to be somewhere nearby. Genesis was ready to give up all his pride, all his arrogance, just to feel his presence by his side, to feel his calm reassured response when…

Wing soared from his left shoulder, tearing through bones and skin, spilling carmine droplets of blood. His body shook violently, collapsing onto the bed, and that monstrous ugliness fell by his side.

Genesis screamed.

Huge jet-black feathers circled their way to the floor as a parting salute to his glory, to his dreams, to his pride. Genesis moaned in agony, forcing himself to look at one that landed on his palm.

What was it? How a human could possess a feather that could only belong to an oversized bird? Redhead felt sickening pit forming in his stomach. What was going on?

Soft, deceptively smooth, loathsome feathers… Genesis turned his head, noticing the enormous wing spread on the whiteness of his sheets.

Genesis screamed. Again. And again.

He wished it would be gone. Now.

Falling off the bed, fighting weakness and pain, Genesis almost crawled to the kitchen. Clutching onto the drawers of a cupboard, he straitened, looked around. A flash of silver caught his eyes. Grabbing a knife with trembling fingers he stabbed the monstrous wing right where it protruded from his back, made a long cut…

And screamed. Knife dropped out of his hands and he fell onto his knees. Shaking, unable to fight himself any longer, Genesis bent over the kitchen floor and vomited. A pool of bitter bile mixed with blood spread on the white tile.

At that time he felt like he vomited his own heart.

The wing had disappeared, but redhead knew it would be back. He didn't get rid of it. He couldn't get rid of it.

What was happening to him?

Genesis' head hung as he was fighting convulsive urges to be sick again. Slime trickled down his chin.

Tomorrow… tomorrow he had to go to Wutai on that mission that was supposed to change everything. Tomorrow his star was supposed to rise. Tomorrow was the day a new hero had to be born, and give him a chance to fulfill his dreams. To be **like** Sephiroth, to be _**more**_ than Sephiroth, to be _**with**_ Sephiroth…

Slowly he rose to his feet. Run, was all his mind could think of now. Disappear. Hide. Never let anyone see his weakness. Especially him.

In Sephiroth's shadow a monster like himself would be nothing but dust.

Without pride love was dust.

_*flashback*_

Monster.

Genesis stood motionless, azure eyes fixed on his parent's bodies. He murdered them like they were dogs, and a fate of any traitor would be the same. He had no reason to show any mercy. He was…

Two days. All he lacked were those two days. He was so close to his dream, so close to touching his rising star. He was so close to having Sephiroth's heart…

Who cared about it all now?

He was…

Hollander told him it was due to his gene type. His traits were easily copied and passed onto others, and thus he was withering, degrading, dying. Hollander, his creator, wished to make Genesis his obedient puppet just by offering a cure. And gods only knew there was nothing more Genesis desired than a cure.

He could do anything for a cure…

Darkness flowed into his mind as a slow blissful stream. Darkness filled him, unfolding like a single jet-black wing. Pleasure shot through his body as he looked at his palms, covered in blood, sickening pleasure of understanding he fulfilled justice. Justice others might call a crime, but…

A cruel smirk snaked Genesis' lips.

If this world laughed at him, why couldn't he return the favor?

Picking up his mother's limp body and throwing it over his shoulder with an air of nonchalance he headed for the exit, leaving a clear trail of blood behind. His steps were light, and scarlet leather jacket creaked following each movement. His wing loomed above his head, black as flames of his hatred.

He murdered them as if they were dogs, and he would bury them the same way.

He was a monster.

And monsters act by their nature…

Genesis Rhapsodos covered his face in his palms. His heart was throbbing as a bird against the walls of her cage. Shards, icy shards were as rods, and the songbird was trapped inside.

He could not let himself remember any of them, not tonight.

Genesis' shaking fingers reached for Sephiroth's shirt, unbuttoned it with frantic haste. His lips clung to his lover's shoulder, immediately waking him. Emerald eyes fluttered open.

"Genesis, what's wrong?" Concern. Worry. Confusion. He tried to stop the redhead, but he just mumbled "Nothing" against his lover's pale smooth skin. All Genesis could think of was…

Burning, drowning, forgetting…

Sephiroth stopped him, lifting his chin with force.

"Genesis…"

"I want you. Now!" Snapped redhead, azure eyes burning violently. And without waiting for response kissed those perfectly shaped lips, hungrily, feverishly, biting them with ruthless desire. Sephiroth gasped, fighting his wild assault, but not for long. Genesis seemed to infect his lover with this broken-hearted insatiable passion.

Wild dance of crimson sparks in darkness; Sephiroth pinned him to the sheets with force and Genesis gave himself up, eagerly. Swirl of sheer rapture and pain; redhead screamed, arching, pushing his lover even further until there was no Genesis and no Sephiroth. Until all that remained was their unbearable ardent love. They fell and it seemed that if bliss lasted for just one more fleeting moment, it would set their bodies aflame, reducing to nothing but grey snowflakes of ash…

Genesis was…

Burning. Drowning. Forgetting…

_*flashback*_

After one of their ardent nights Genesis was in one of his sentimental moods. So leaning closer he whispered into Sephiroth's ear.

"Did you miss me when I jumped in Modeoheim?"

Immediately his eyes opened, pain flickering in emerald depths.

He still remembered. He would never forget. And neither would Genesis.

"I did." Raising himself on the elbow Sephiroth touched redhead's lips with gentle evanescent caress. "I even missed kissing you."

"Then why did you let me go?"

His angelic features hazed over with thought, green flames wanly rising behind irises.

"And why did you jump?"

Genesis stared at him, his gaze uncomprehending until realization dawned. Redhead laughed. Sephiroth gave him a perfect answer.

Strong independent people love and allow themselves to be loved to a certain extend only.

It was their gift.

It was their… curse.


	4. Chapter 4

Summary: A sequel to Silent Sacrifice S/G ending. Sephiroth and Genesis travel to distant places, meet their fates and fight for their humanity.

Disclaimer: I own nothing or no one. Why would I need to, anyways?

Pairings: Sephiroth/Genesis

A/N: warning: dark themes, hints of madness, violence. Genesis' memories, part 2.

_**Chapter IV.**_

_**Shards (part II).**_

Genesis woke up in the morning to the sight of Sephiroth sitting with his bare back to him. His chin rested on his knees, and silver hair shrouded his frame. Redhead couldn't resist running his hand through those soft silken tresses. And immediately Sephiroth turned to face him.

"Good you are awake, Genesis," his smooth deep voice demanded at once. "I would like to know what had happened yesterday."

Genesis closed his eyes, pretending not to care.

"I was aroused," he lied rather indifferently. But what annoyed him sometimes Sephiroth was able to tell when he was not sincere.

Long ethereal fingers brushed his cheek.

"Don't lie to me, Genesis." With a faint reproach.

Azure eyes opened. Angelic face was mere inches away from his, emeralds hazed over. Loose silver strands hung touching his bare chest. He winded one slowly around his finger, an arch smile curving his lips.

Well, if Genesis couldn't lie he could distract his lover. Stretching lazily he pushed the blanket away and crawled onto Sephiroth's lap between his long legs. His palms firmly settled on his lover's bended knees.

Silver eyebrows rose.

"I am still waiting for an answer."

Genesis's fingers began caressing his thigh, sinking further and further; he drew closer and closer, until their lips almost touched.

"I am going to be gentle this time," purred Genesis in a low sensual voice.

Sephiroth immediately moved away, coldness seeping through every word he said.

"That is not the point."

Slightly frustrated, he made another attempt to kiss his lover, failing once more. Redhead couldn't help but feel he was losing his temper.

"You know," He spoke with rising anger, "I hate when you are in your holier-than-thou mood. Why don't you just admit you love it and stop avoiding me?"

Resting his back against the headboard Sephiroth quietly sighed.

"I never said I disliked it, Genesis."

"Then why are we arguing?"

His silver-haired angel waved aside.

"I am not. What I am saying is that I won't allow you to hide from answers just by having... this." He gestured to the bed.

Genesis' eyes flashed, fists clenched.

"Oh, don't tell me you are sharing _everything_," he hissed.

Sephiroth shrugged, answering in the same calm patient manner.

"I am not. But I know how to deal with my struggle. You don't seem to cope."

An arrogant sneer curled his lips.

"I certainly regret you have such an impression."

Sephiroth lifted Genesis' chin and looked directly into sky-blue eyes. Such gentle tender touch… such impossibly demanding gaze. Genesis swallowed listening to his words.

"I'll wait until you are ready. Because it is your heart that I love. A heart that showed me - this world is beautiful."

Redhead snorted, rising to his feet. He had a sudden desire to answer ruthlessly, feeling familiar pain in his chest that always indicated those shards would be back all too soon. He simply could not forget…

"My heart…" He turned aside and strolled to the bathroom. Before disappearing he added with cruel mockery. "But what if there is a void there?"

He knew he touched Sephiroth's sore spot as well. His head hung, silver moire veiling flicker of pain in emerald eyes.

Pain and barely hidden fear.

What if their hearts were nothing but a black empty void?

_*flashback*_

Undesired.

Genesis slowly stepped out of the shadows, bending down and touching woman's pulse. Her heart wasn't beating. His true mother, the one that gave birth to him also died, killed herself. Her body clad in dark green dress was helplessly sprawled on the floor.

He wondered what Angeal would say.

And the moment he thought of his friend the dark haired warrior entered the hut, his Buster Sword unsheathed.

Genesis greeted him with a nod.

"Welcome, my friend."

His austere features were torn between disgust and fear.

"What had you done, Genesis?" He asked in a quiet stern voice. "You are a monster."

Redhead smirked, a twisted cruel smirk.

"Now there is nothing new there. But, don't worry," his melodic voice altered just a bit, allowing something that still resembled comforting to ring in it, "she took her own life. I had nothing to do with it. Perhaps, she simply couldn't stand our nature…"

Angeal stepped back, looking as if he was slapped across his face when Genesis passionately demanded.

"Do you understand now _**why**_ we can't live on that side any longer?"

There was a commotion outside, and Genesis abruptly turned and walked away, without waiting for his friend's answer. Zack had stormed passed him without even noticing. Like a shadow Genesis stood outside waiting until Angeal and his apprentice were out of the hut again. He didn't deign to listen to their conversation. He knew Angeal much better than that ignorant youth; his childhood friend would never return to work for Shin-Ra, not after what they had done to him and his parents. Zack's attempts were so laughable, that he almost chuckled.

Angeal was out of the house first. It appeared his apprentice just shoved him aside and into the opened door. Zack shouted something about honor. How pathetic. Honor? How a monster like Angeal and like himself could possess an honor? It was like suggesting a fish could fly.

When Zack ran after his mentor Genesis tripped him, and raven-haired youth fell. In the mean time Angeal got up, sheathed his sword and started to walk away. Genesis pushed himself off the hut wall.

"My friend," he addressed Angeal's back, "do you fly away now?

To a world that abhors you and I?.."

Angeal's raven-haired apprentice shouted something like "Shut up!" but Genesis didn't even look at him, continuing in his smooth mocking voice, azure eyes fixed on broad black-haired frame.

"…All that awaits you is a somber morrow

No matter where the winds may blow…"

Angeal didn't even look at him. He also denied Genesis.

Undesired.

Zack jumped to his feet, angered, bewildered and they both watched Angeal disappear. Then Genesis turned his attention to him again.

"I don't see Sephiroth here today… but are you game?"

That should be interesting. A summon materia appeared in his gloved fingers and he used it to call a monster. That would keep Zack busy and provide an entertainment for him.

After all Sephiroth didn't deign to show up. Genesis felt slightly bored...

And undesired. No wonder his other friend didn't even want to see what became of him…

He laughed harshly, as Zack began his fight…

Genesis carefully closed the bathroom door and climbed over the high edge and into the bathtub. Turning the water on he sat down, not even making a single attempt to take a shower. He head to remember everything, all his fall and rise, or those shards would not melt.

It was useless to run from his past.

Azure eyes closed. Darkness fell and in that darkness…

_*flashback*_

Thirst.

Cold metal surface of a lab table underneath his palm. His hand slid, reaching for the glass stem. Taking it to his lips Genesis made himself swallow the contents of a goblet. Cool limpid water touched his lips, filled his mouth and pain subsided, leaving him weakened and tired.

Genesis sat, leaning on the headboard of his bed. Slow listless thoughts coursed through his mind, and he was unable to concentrate on any particular thread. He would think of Sephiroth, of Angeal's denial, then of Sephiroth again, and in his heart those names stirred nothing. As if they never existed.

Yesterday Genesis wasted his last chance. Sephiroth offered him love, and he walked away. Redhead hurt him deeply, but knowing his friend, he would most likely forget about Genesis' existence. When it came to treachery, Sephiroth wasn't the most forgiving person.

Genesis closed his eyes, forcing himself to remember…

Pure stream of silver moonlight, perfectly shaped bow of thin lips, flicker of emerald flames between half-closed eyelids…

Nothing. Today he felt nothing. Today he desired no one. Today he could only think of a cure.

Azure eyes opened as if unwilling to see too much of the world around him, only noticing a book on his chest. Opening the first page Genesis read slowly, thoughtfully as if trying to taste the words he spoke.

"I had a dream, which was not all a dream.

The bright sun was extinguish'd, and the stars

Did wander darkling in the eternal space,

Rayless, and pathless, and the icy earth

Swung blind and blackening in the moonless air…"

Steps… their light sounds touching Genesis ears as butterfly wings. Only one man knew a way to his room, only one man could visit him. Such was Genesis' desire.

After all monsters like him should be hunted down and forgotten.

"Ah, Hollander," clear sky-blue eyes riveted on scientists' obese frame as he entered, on his unshaved face and dirty robe. He was drunk, Genesis thought with disdain.

Hollander tottered, putting his arm on the wooden headboard in such a masterful manner. He smirked, looking down at redhead, and in those fish-like eyes… Creator looked at his creation with almost parental fondness. Creator looked at a failure knowing he had power over it.

"Genesis," with slight almost mocking satisfaction, "how are you doing?"

Azure ayes flashed, fists clenching involuntarily.

How dare he? How dare he laugh?

"Much better," he forced those words with as much indifference as he could muster.

Hatred, blinding, scorching overflowed him as a mountain streamlet after the spring storm. He imagined how his long fingers would settle on Hollander's neck, how his hands would move, abruptly, with ruthless precision, how his neck would snap with a crunching sound, how his lifeless body would collapse, broken as a toy in maladroit hands of an impatient child. Those visions stirred pleasure, strange, almost tangible, but…

Hollander had to live until he found his remedy.

A thirst for cure was burning as a venom is his veins. A thirst for cure was driving him insane.

A smirk played across Genesis' features. Lifeless, fixed, it clung to his lips in a planned studied gesture.

He was mocking the whole world because the world had mocked him.

"We are going to attack the Science Department."

Genesis nails deeply sank into his palm. He ordered him around as if he was an obedient plaything.

"What for?"

Hollander looked pleased, hearing his voice, melody of anger and hatred merging with his natural sound.

"I want Hojo's life."

"Where is the cure?"

Cackling laugh.

"You dictate your demands. I certainly like that."

Hollander left, shuffling his feet, swaying, almost falling to one side. Genesis didn't look at him. Before the scientist left the room, his voice rang in redhead's ears again:

"Just remember. There is no way back without a cure. And I would give you one… once you obey."

He spoke as if there was any way back at all. Genesis was a monster and no cure would change that. He laughed under his breath, long fingers unclenching. There were scarlet crescents on his palm and blood underneath his nails. If it wasn't for this pain, Genesis would have lost his temper and killed Hollander.

He was no possession. He was no toy.

Rising abruptly Genesis headed for the door. He would not sit around expecting a cure; while he could still obey Hollander's demands, that search for the gift was the best hope.

His copies guarded the exit. Their emotionless azure eyes looked at him with no curiosity.

Such irony. He was a copy of himself now, with white streaks in his auburn hair, with morbidly pale face. And his toys, his clones were blameless. He let his fingers slide along the golden skin, along those feminine lips. Copy felt nothing, continuing to stare at Genesis with void empty eyes. Its previous personality was erased completely.

And his… his soul remained trapped in a helpless husk.

Genesis pushed aside his copy with genuine hatred. Why? Why was he degrading, but clones remained untainted? Did they also laugh at him?

He needed a cure. He craved for cure.

That thirst was stronger than any other.

Thirst… Almost subconsciously Genesis drew forward, filing his cupped hands with water and swallowing warm clear liquid. It didn't help. It wasn't thirst that could be quenched by any means.

It was there, inside him, always.

The thirst to forget about everything, about…

_*flashback*_

The dying dream.

Genesis Rhapsodos – among other things like receiving a perfect education, reading and composing poetry, improving his skill with blade and progressing in warfare tactics – excelled at breaking people. Unlike anyone else he knew much about human weaknesses. Dread of death. Fright for their families and beloved. Genesis knew how to play with those all-too-human foibles. It was his way of feeling he still had power over something in this world.

Those two captives wouldn't be able to put up much resistance. He could read their emotions and thoughts as if they were an opened book. In all known world he knew there was but one man who remained an enigma. For the last few days he couldn't stop thinking about him. Perhaps, since their paths crossed often lately. Or perhaps for no reason at all.

Sephiroth.

That name was as a melody to his ears, as sprays of molten silver, as emerald flames…

That name was mocking him. He hated that name.

Genesis pushed off the wall and came to stand by the metallic table. Flashes of pain followed his every movement, and he had to make inhuman efforts to keep his face calm. Thin almost feminine fingers circled the stem, clenched. Genesis lifted the goblet to his lips, drunk. Water touched his tongue, but he couldn't feel its cool taste. Genesis had to drink a lot or he would have withered from thirst.

He was fading away, day by day. Two nights ago his senses began to die away, and today…

He poured himself more water, quaffed it up.

Today his hair turned completely grey, last golden locks disappeared. Genesis used to like looking at his reflection in the mirror, reveling in understanding how young and desirable he was. As of lately, his room had no mirrors.

Black thigh-high boots with low heels rustled against the stone floor as grains of sand, poured off by the wind. Scarlet leather coat creaked with his every move. Genesis came to stand in front of his captives, noticing thin streamlets of cold sweat on their foreheads as he stared at them with hatred. Those two were Hollander's assistants, back during those days when he conducted his experiment. He wasted a lot of strength and time trying to find them both, and now he had the right to demand an answer. Just one single answer.

"What is the cure for… this?" His hand rose to his pale face gracefully, with dignity. The other reached out to take a gag out of older captive's mouth.

"We don't know," a quiet reply immediately followed.

"Wrong choice," Genesis' feminine lips curved into a cruel smile as his palm slapped across the younger prisoner's face. Stream of blood gushed from his broken nose, his head jerked limply, and the younger man uttered something that reminded a muffled sob. The older one paled.

"B-but we know n-nothing," he mumbled hastily, stammering. The younger weakly nodded. "Hollander did everything, we just…"

Genesis had no patience that day. In a swirl of scarlet leather and crimson steel he touched the younger man's throat with his blade, so deceptively slowly, tenderly as if just caressing. Blood immediately began oozing from thin scarlet cut on prisoner's neck, droplets landing on grey clothes. He mumbled, eyes visibly widening as his fingers clawed the metal surface of his chair in agony.

Blood drained from older man's face. He uttered a strange gurgling sound, desperately but unavailingly fighting disgust and fright. After younger captive's body went still his stomach turned.

With a fastidious grimace Genesis took a step back so that bile wouldn't stain his boots. Now he was broken, he thought with satisfaction. Now he'd say anything.

He took a handkerchief out of his pocket and gently wiped older man's lips. The younger captive was dead, and last carmine drops were lazily falling on the floor.

The one remaining captive was making hoarse sounds, eyes dark from bodily fear.

"I am asking my question for the last time," Genesis affectionately purred, circling the chair despite pain that followed his every movement. Fingers clutched at the metal back of the chair. "How can you stop the degradation process?"

The older man just wheezed and mumbled. Genesis' eyebrows shot up.

"S-cells," the scientist finally forced out of his mouth, "Jenova…"

"What is it?" Genesis immediately demanded.

But all he could say was:

"S-cells… Jenova…"

Genesis shook his head with barely hidden frustration. Who was Jenova? And where can he find those S-cells? But it was a beginning…

Redhead looked intently at the prisoner. He was still young and quite handsome. Too bad he broke too soon…

"Please, spare me…" he implored watching Genesis' hand rise.

"Hush," redhead pressed his index finger to prisoner's lips.

Hollander's assistant flinched, but immediately froze catching his annoyed glance. Genesis closed his eyes, compelled the world to narrow down to a single detail, to a single sensation and brushed the man's lips.

He felt nothing. Nothing of those feelings touching Sephiroth's lips stirred.

Either his skin grew numb or the only person able to ignite _such_ bliss in him was his former friend. Azure eyes flung open. Pushing unruly body aside he came to stand by the window.

Sephiroth…

Genesis hated him.

His dream was burning in flames of his madness.

His dream was dying with him.

Yes, on that day Genesis hated Sephiroth. And loved on the next.

Loved and hated, hated and loved… until he found Hollander's notes on Jenova project. There he read about his beloved friend being a monster, there he found his cure.

And as strange and ironic as all his life had been they all were the same.

His friend. His love. His cure…

_*flashback*_

Shards.

Genesis was smiling. That smile reminded him of a tired unbidden guest whose presence wasn't welcome for quite some time. He couldn't remember when he was smiling like that. Without bitterness, without mockery, without arrogance.

A tired but genuine smile.

He had found a cure.

Snow fell. The storm was gathering strength; raging wind threw hundreds of snowflakes into the window, and they obediently fell onto the glass, melting, melting, melting…

Like an ice shard.

Like human life.

Genesis turned around and his gaze immediately fell onto the wide screen which had an image of a tall silhouette stubbornly walking through the storm. Snowflakes danced around his silver hair as halo; thin lips were pressed together, emerald eyes cold and unreadable.

Enigma. Icy impenetrable enigma. Long fingers touched the screen, gently sliding along the striding frame. Genesis desired him now, perhaps even more than ever since he was the cure. Since he had a small hope for putting the shards of his life together into something worthy to be called _living_.

Silver-haired general lifted his head as if feeling Genesis' eyes on him. Certainly he couldn't know redhead was watching him, but feel something – with his mako enhanced senses – definitely. Genesis smiled to himself. Sephiroth would belong to him, with time.

When one of his toys reported about the crash Genesis ordered his clones to watch them closely. It was too easy.

Sephiroth was too careless. Perhaps he wanted Genesis to know about his presence. But what of his intentions? Why was he heading to Modeoheim? Did Shin-Ra send him or did he come on his own accord?

It didn't matter. He couldn't risk wasting his only chance. He would take those S-cells, take without asking. He could not bring himself to ask.

As for Sephiroth… Genesis wasn't thinking about how their rendezvous could end for his friend.

Shuffling steps. Genesis switched the screen off. It was undesired for Hollander to find out about his little plan. Hollander entered the room in slow self-confident strides, shot a glance at black monitors. Genesis pretended to be studying the ceiling.

Same simple smile played across his lips.

"Why are you smiling?" Hollander looked extremely satisfied. Redhead knew why: his insane plan moved onto another stage but to be honest Genesis didn't care in the slightest. Scientist was very proud of it but he didn't even deign to listen to his mumblings.

His steps light and graceful Genesis came to stand behind professor; despite the sickness he still knew he was handsome and desirable.

Palms settled on scientist's shoulders, his breath tickled wrinkled skin, and redhead noticed short dark hair rising on Hollander's neck. Professor slightly trembled.

"I had a good day," Genesis cooed.

Scientist never knew how close to death he was at that moment. Genesis' finger clenched slightly; one abrupt movement, and his neck would have broken like a branch of a stunted tree.

But Genesis wasn't so merciful.

Let him think everything was as before. Let him think that the puppet's strings are safely tied to puppeteer's hands, that the following day would bring him closer to accomplishing his insane plan. Let him believe everything was in his power.

Then he would fall harder. Genesis' goal was to push him just a bit further, so that after the fall he would have no strength to rise.

Predatory smile snaked pale lifeless lips. The delight that the thought stirred was indescribable.

Genesis was finally free.

Turning around he headed for the exit. He had to gather strength before the upcoming rendezvous with Sephiroth. When he was out of room Hollander's smug question reached redhead's ears:

"Do you think tomorrow will be a good day as well?"

Genesis laughed at that. And in utter silence his voice rang as chimes of little bells, as a whisper of falling crystal shards…

Genesis was not at fault. His fall ended in the Lifestream that carried him to Nebelheim reactor. Redhead thought it was a fateful choice, so he found an unoccupied manor in the outskirts of the small town. Using Hollander's copying device he replicated Sephiroth's genes just from one drop of blood and cured himself.

From then on he thought he had to get back up. After all he was not a single monster in this world. There were two of them now. And so redhead began searching for a way to take Sephiroth with him.

The only thing he didn't know was that Sephiroth had a weakness, an incurable bleeding wound. His friend doubted his own humanity, and monstrous nature was as a death blow to Sephiroth's willpower and sanity. And if he didn't stop his silver-haired angel from falling redhead would have gone with him as well.

Bitterly smirking to himself Genesis rose to his feet. That was the last shard, now he could walk out of the bathroom and face Sephiroth again…

Until the next time they'd come back…

Until the next time he'd ask himself that question…

Was his heart a void?


	5. Chapter 5

Disclaimer: I own nothing or no one. Why would I need to, anyways?

Pairings: Sephiroth/Genesis

A/N: warning: no warnings this time. Warnings are for next chapters. ^_^.

_**Chapter V.**_

_**Farewell.**_

Sephiroth sat at the table, absently flipping through the pages of a morning newspaper. He knew he needed to concentrate upon the meaning of headlines and articles, but words were slipping through his mind as pointless strings of black letters.

Propping his head with his hand, the silver-haired ex-general cast his eyes up. He knew why he couldn't focus. Genesis went out to get something, but the question he asked still echoed in his ears.

What if his heart was a void?

It all began a long time ago, the roots of his strife dating back to his long lost childhood years. His uniqueness came with a price. People like him were not born to be happy. They were not supposed to get married, have children and return to a family circle at the end of the day. They were the changing force, the pillar of order and Sephiroth rarely wished for another fate.

But as Sephiroth had to learn his destiny demanded sacrifice. Every gift was evanescent, every happy moment a fleeting shadow.

He got used to losses. How could he not when their long trail began from his birth?

Silver head hung, long ethereal fingers brushed the wooden surface of a table as he quietly whispered…

_*flashback*_

Mother.

Sephiroth lifted his head, taking his eyes off the book he was reading. Hojo sat at the lab table, absorbed in his work. He never paid Sephiroth much attention, and the silver-haired boy had to entertain himself by only means he knew.

Books. Books became his second life. He would read anything that met his eyes with fervent hunger. He would revel in this substitute for a life since he obviously had none. It was professor Gast who read first books to him and it was professor Gast who told him that children had mothers and fathers. And without thinking about it much he asked Hojo:

"Professor, who was my mother?"

Professor. Hojo would never allow Sephiroth to call him father, or dad. Their relationship was always strictly official.

Professor and his test subject.

Hojo scowled, clearly displeased; he always disliked being drawn away from his work, and the only time he wanted to see Sephiroth around was for their tests.

"Jenova," he waved aside, indicating he was too busy for an explanation.

Jenova… Sephiroth tasted the word in his mouth. Je-no-va… it rang bitterly in his ears. He has never heard of a woman with such a rare name in the labs. Perhaps she abandoned him, and that's how he ended up in Hojo's care. But even if so Sephiroth wished to find his mother; if he could cast just a single glance at her, it would fill emptiness in his heart. Just a single glance. Just a single smile in return.

As a ghost he wandered around Shin-Ra building; he asked lab assistants, he asked SOLDIER, he even asked doctors and janitors. No one seemed to know Jenova. Giving up he continued his inquiries without a name. And in a couple of days he found a woman who heard about his mother.

Sephiroth stood looking at a short dark-haired lab assistant with tired face and bags under her eyes. But even so she flashed a wan smile at him hearing his question.

"I knew your mother, just a bit. I saw her twice, and the second time she was dying. She passed away giving birth to you."

Sephiroth felt something like a lump in his throat. His mother was dead, despite all his hopes to find her. His dream was dead, one of many that had to die lately.

The lab assistant patted his shoulder, seeing his sadness, and added. Perhaps it was meant to reassure him.

"When she died she was smiling."

It didn't help. Turning around the silver-haired boy ran away. His face was suddenly wet, crystal droplets falling from the corners of his eyes. The state was unfamiliar to him, and the only person who could answer his questions was Hojo.

Professor was slightly displeased seeing him sobbing.

"What is it, Sephiroth?"

"I don't know, professor." He helplessly shrugged touching his damp cheek.

Hojo shook his head, his dark eyes as cold and listless as always.

"Men don't cry. Remember that, my boy."

Men don't cry. It was simple, but as Sephiroth watched professor turn around and walk away, the flap of white smock flying around his knees, he continued crying bitterly as if he wanted to shed all of his tears in one single attempt.

On that evening he crawled under the blankets of his bunk, imagining how his mother could look like and sobbed himself to sleep. Not a single soul asked why. Busy life unwound around him, and silver-haired boy with emerald green eyes and diamonds of tears on his cheeks was but one of many children who cried that night.

It was the bitter truth of his life. Men don't cry. Test subjects don't cry.

Those were Sephiroth's first tears and those were his last. He has never cried since. Never shed a single tear of regret or remorse or despair.

The world around him was cold and ruthless.

The world around him didn't care about how he felt.

In Nebelheim Sephiroth found out Hojo and nameless lab assistant talked about different mothers. Jenova, his monstrous parent and a woman who gave birth to him were indeed different. On that day it has been twenty or so years since he cried.

On that day he gave up another piece of his bleeding heart.

He was so used to yielding them, one by one, step by step. And what if in the end nothing but an emptiness remained?

Sephiroth took his palms off his face. Although it was rarely his habit to regret anything, he wished he would have never gone to Nebelheim. The burden of being partially inhuman was as a choking black cloak at times, stifling his dreams, extinguishing weak rays of hope; it felt as if he was slowly sagging under its weight.

Nebelheim happened to be only the beginning.

With a tired bitter smirk Sephiroth looked away from the window at the sound of the opening door. There stood Genesis with a pile of newspapers, in that unusual black outfit which – Sephiroth had to admit – suited him. A wave of warmth rose in his chest upon seeing his lover and pain unclenched its icy claws. And a sly smile on sensual lips woke one in response.

Sephiroth extended his hand, and Genesis strode gracefully to where he sat, put the pile of papers on the table. He seemed better than in the morning, darkness gone from his eyes. Only his state sometimes worried Sephiroth; this wild broken-hearted passion could only reflect his lover's inner turmoil. And if it was at least half as strong as its outward display…

Sephiroth's hands reached out for his lover's slim waist, slid along its flawless curve. In turn Genesis brought his head close to his chest.

They needed no words. Sometimes words were useless. Sometimes words were nothing but crude sounds breaking a priceless moment.

Especially since their words were spoken a long time ago…

…Genesis gently stirred, running his fingers through the waterfall of silver hair. Sephiroth's sensitive skin began to tingle at once. But it was a pleasant sensation, as if weak lightning bolts shot through his neck and spine.

And Sephiroth felt it was appropriate to talk.

"Where did you find those newspapers?" his voice was muffled against his lover's shirt. Black cloth was soft, although not as soft as his skin. And it smelled of him. Sephiroth could not distinguish anything specific; it was just Genesis' smell.

"Charm can do wonders," he softly snorted, continuing his tender strokes.

Sephiroth closed his eyes, enjoying those sensations for another brief moment and then got up.

"I believe we have a lot of work to do."

Picking up some papers he settled on the bed, legs stretched out. It was a routine they had to go through at every new place. There was no other way to know where their presence might be required.

His redheaded lover slid on a bed by his side, peered into the paper he was reading, a frown caressing his face.

"This is a tedious task," he opened his first newspaper and sighed at once, "if I fall asleep wake me up."

Sephiroth chuckled shaking his head.

Will Genesis ever change? And… did he want him to change?

The answer was definitely a negative one.

For an hour or two they read in silence. Sephiroth went through numerous unimportant articles and found nothing. It only meant they would have to separate and search on their own.

Genesis seemed to have no luck either. Just once redhead mentioned a paragraph to him, adding that it reeked of hypocrisy. But politics and hypocrisy always went hand in hand; Shin-Ra was the prime example.

Finally defeated Sephiroth sighed and put the newspapers away. Genesis immediately followed his example. It seemed as if redhead waited for him to do just that.

Immediately his lover's hands slid under his shirt.

"Genesis, you are insatiable."

"And whose fault is that?" Redhead tilted his head with a half-teasing smirk. "You are just so…"

He waved aside, quite impatient to resume their game.

"Your… demands will drain me to a point when I would not be able to get up," ex-general slightly teased his lover.

"My poor little Sephiroth," Genesis affectionately purred as his lips nestled up against his neck in a sultry kiss.

Sephiroth obediently closed his eyes. Waves of heat washed over his body as he just lay, bathing in Genesis' playful caresses…

All too soon though they were not playful any more. Sephiroth released a shaky breath as he felt his lover's lips follow the curves on his stomach, waking fire with each supple movement. They were impossibly soft and lithe somehow able to fit perfectly between the counters of his muscles.

Long fingers sank into soft azure, faint moan escaping Sephiroth's lips as redhead's mouth mantled his nipple, playing with it.

He was losing himself…

He felt there was no need to restrain himself as he did after Genesis' treason. Sephiroth was able to forgive his lover for betraying his trust and his one true feeling.

Flames of Nebelheim judged them both.

Flames… judged…

Flames on his lips as Genesis fervently kissed him, their bodies entwining. His lover's hands undid his pants, subtle skilled fingers caressing him the way only Genesis knew of, bringing all his guard down to nothing.

And the two became one.

… Later after passion faded out but they still lay in each other's arms Genesis suddenly raised himself a little, hanging over, golden locks falling over his face.

"You know what I always loved about you?" He suddenly whispered. Silver eyebrows arched as falcon's wings, questioning silently. "No matter what they did to you, no matter how much you lost, in your very core, deep in heart you always remained pure as an infant."

Pure? Genesis definitely had a perverted understanding of purity. Wutai, Nebelheim and…

Sephiroth was about to voice it all out when his lover captured his lips, covering his mouth and swallowing everything he was to say.

"Don't argue," Genesis whispered between kisses, his voice passionate and his eyes somehow filled with both longing and sadness as he continued, "just share your purity with me."

And another gentle touch, so bashful and shy, Sephiroth almost thought it could not be Genesis.

They sat on the roof of the inn watching stars. Or better to say Genesis was the one who admired the unfamiliar pattern of colored gems. It was hard to tell what Sephiroth thought of, as always.

Redhead embraced his lover's waist, and Sephiroth's head rested on his shoulder, silver spread over their frames. Liquid, flowing silver which smelled like freedom. Genesis wrapped their bodies with his black wing as if trying to protect from midnight coolness.

Sephiroth's fingers were absently sliding along huge jet-black feathers, emerald eyes closed and he seemed to be lost in his own world. What roads did he travel? What moments of their past did he contemplate? After all he had much to remember…

Redhead sighed. The curve of alabaster neck tempted him tremendously; he desired to cling to warm skin with his lips, to touch a sensitive spot just above the black collar that set off his pallor.

He desired to hear a faint moan escaping those perfectly shaped lips.

But… this night was not for passion, they both felt so. Tomorrow they would go separate ways, each one had a road to take. In three days they were supposed to meet again, on the roof of this inn.

A new world waited to be discovered…

Genesis looked at his lover's face. Nature was lavish but blind gifting him with such unearthly beauty. Redhead often felt as if he didn't cherish it or did not understand at least. He had a good guess why. Being raised in isolation Sephiroth saw the world around them differently; sometimes Genesis tried to imagine what it could be like and always came up with a black-and-white image.

From the moment they met Genesis immediately felt his emptiness. Redhead never asked how much Sephiroth lost during childhood years, but it must have been much for he has never seen a person who was as careful with his own emotions as his lover. For him it was always a thoroughly maintained balance between feeling and revealing, between sharing and keeping, between an overwhelming desire to be accepted and fear to surrender. It felt as if he hoped against hope, fought against himself.

And with time Genesis learned it was useless to ask everything of him; it wasn't the matter of trust or love, it wasn't a conscious decision.

Genesis knew it was a mark of a self-sufficing independent person.

Such people rarely have one dream; they withstand against storms and have the power to turn the streams in riverbeds back to front.

They are indeed unique.

They have a mark of a hero whether they wish it or not. Genesis considered himself as one of them as well.

Redhead also knew of some of Sephiroth's peculiar struggles. His self-identification, strife between a calamity he was raised to be and a person he always desired to become. His attitude towards war as a natural force of change, and something Genesis found out just recently – his desire to belong to one place, to call that place home.

Genesis on the other hand had never been particularly fond of such devotion. He enjoyed their journeys and considered staying in one place quite tedious.

"Did you notice that everywhere we go we see the same?" Sephiroth asked suddenly, without any warning. Perhaps it was a reflection of a thought he had in his mind for some time.

Genesis tilted his head, and silver earring in his right ear tinkled.

"It is an easy one. Because people are the same. They have identical ambitions, strengths and weaknesses. So… predictable…"

Sephiroth caught a fastidious note in his voice.

"Do you believe you are different? Above those weaknesses?" He asked immediately.

Genesis laughed softly, looking at his silver-haired angel. At his greatest weakness.

"No, I don't. People without weaknesses are monsters."

Sephiroth's eyes opened, meeting his.

"And what are your… foibles?"

"Dread of death is definitely not one of them," redhead drawled with a slight smirk.

He knew what question was to be asked next.

"And what of love?"

"Say it yourself."

Sephiroth thought for a moment, thin lips curving into a smile.

"Both. It is a weakness, yes, but a great strength at the same time. I don't know if I had the ability to fight for my humanity if I never knew how love and friendship felt like."

Genesis smirked, tracing a line on his lover's flawless face with unhidden affection.

"One or two years spent with me, and you'd start writing books."

Emerald eyes lit up with all-too-familiar teasing sparks.

"I shall leave that part to you."

Genesis loved those dancing sparks, Genesis loved his angel's eyes. And then Sephiroth suddenly asked.

"Read something to me."

His silver-haired lover asked him to cite from his memory more and more often. That pleased redhead a lot. Azure eyes closed as he thoughtfully pondered Sephiroth's request; it had to be perfect as always. Every time he chose a certain piece to cite Genesis put a lot of sense in each word, more than one could immediately notice. It appeared his lover picked that habit after him. Genesis smiled, remembering the only time Sephiroth read a poem by heart, and even he had to admit it was chosen impeccably…

Suddenly Sephiroth's lips slid between his and without seeing redhead felt – his lover was also smiling. And joined in that smile they reminded him of flawlessly matched pieces of mosaic. His lips, Sephiroth's lips and one for them both – a smile.

In times like this he was very close to believing that the void in his heart was satiated.

Genesis moved away first, and his angel's head settled on his shoulder again.

"Do you remember the half-playful poem you told me about? The one from your childhood? You remembered four lines, but even I didn't know where they came from."

Sephiroth nodded and long loose strands that framed his face slightly shook.

"I finished it for you," Genesis paused gathering his thoughts and then cited, lifting his arm to the thin crescent that shone brightly on jet-black coverlet:

"When the moon is on the wave,

And the glow-worm in the grass,

And the meteor on the grave,

And the wisp on the morass…"

"Yes, this is how I remember it," Sephiroth spoke rather indifferently and yet there were overtones of tenderness in his deep voice. "Professor Gast used to read it to me once in a while and then…"

Genesis cast his gaze up.

" When the falling stars are shooting,

And the answer'd owls are hooting,

And the silent leaves are still

In the shadow of the hill,

Shall my soul be upon thine,

With a power and with a sign…"

Silver head turned, emeralds played brightly on his pale refined face, reflecting starlight. He looked thoughtful and his voice rang quietly and softly, void of anything redhead called his mask.

"Thank you, Genesis."

He smiled, moving his wing so that it would cover Sephiroth as a blanket. Soon this night would be over, gone as a bright flicker along the endless starry pathway.

Sephiroth stirred, trying to get more comfortable, his hand absently sliding around his neck, and Genesis gently kissed his forehead.

"Rest peacefully," he whispered, and being half asleep his lover mumbled something incoherent.

Two angels sat in the dark enfolded in each other's arms and who could tell that they destroyed cities and killed people? Who could tell they went through hells to get what they had? And who could tell what hells awaited them on the way?

At that moment all of it was unimportant.

…An hour after dawn they both rose. Wings soared upwards almost simultaneously. Genesis turned south.

"Farewell, Sephiroth," he whispered and Sephiroth replied with a faint smile on his lips:

"Farewell, Genesis."

They needed no other words.


	6. Chapter 6

Disclaimer: I own nothing or no one. Why would I need to, anyways?

Pairings: Sephiroth/Genesis

A/N: Genesis' path, and memories. Sephiroth's would be next.

And thanx for reviewing. Didn't know if anyone liked the story. But… I am glad someone did :)

_**Chapter VI.**_

_**A nameless melody.**_

Folding his single jet-black wing Genesis Rhapsodos swiftly fell from the skies, gracefully landing on a narrow pathway among the green apple groves. The sun was setting, carmine patterns decorating the fading blue coverlet of welkin. His flight was long and tiring, although he didn't see much, only small peaceful scenic towns and villages. Perhaps they should consider moving there for a short while before leaving this world.

Genesis reached out for an apple; it seemed ripe enough to eat. Strange flavor filled his mouth, almost too sweet for his liking. White Banora apples tasted the best in all known universe, he thought with sudden affection, swallowing the juice. But Sephiroth could welcome some anyway and Genesis reminded himself to get apples on the way back.

When he was finished with the fruit he headed for the lonely house that he noticed from above. It had to be an inn or something, fit to spend the night at. Genesis was not going to sleep on the bare ground; Wutai had enough of that unpleasant experience.

… The common room was full when he entered. Casually leaning on the door, legs crossed Genesis let his gaze slide along the unpretentious surroundings. Nothing special stood out, just people. Different people, dressed in various clothes, drinking beer, chattering idly. Redhead's eyes dimmed with disinterest. Sighing he pushed off the wall and headed to the bar.

Genesis knew he looked stunning in his youth and audacity. This time out of all his battle attire there were only black thigh-high boots and leather pants on him. Besides them he wore a loose scarlet shirt; two top buttons were casually undone to show just enough of smooth goldish skin. Fiery auburn hair slightly fell across his right eye.

Yes, Genesis Rhapsodos radiated passion and temptation. The redheaded lady-killer, such was his nickname back in Banora, since none of his childhood friends knew of his _other _interests, Angeal included.

If redhead wanted he could have had anyone in this room. And that thought reflected in his every graceful movement, in his derisively narrowed azure eyes, in his voluptuous smirk on slightly plump lips.

Yes, _if_ he wanted. He desired no one but Sephiroth. Too bad for them, thought Genesis as he strode through the common room to the bar with an air of nonchalance. Gazes followed, women lustful eyes were almost glued to his back from the moment he entered. And no one even his silver-haired lover could forbid him to revel in those almost tangible desires.

So… predictable. Genesis snorted under his breath.

"A glass of water," he leaned over the bar counter, speaking nonchalantly. When a tall goblet appeared on the wooden table, he lifted it and took a sip. Its taste was cool and fresh, just the right thing after a long tiresome flight. He suddenly remembered how he had to drink water to slake the thirst that was burning him from the inside. Slightly shuddering from the unpleasant memories redhead continued sipping, until…

"Just water? How about some wine, handsome?" Woman's voice came from behind, slightly hoarse, slightly prurient voice.

Genesis knew women of that kind. He didn't even need to turn around to know how they looked. He just smirked wondering what Sephiroth would do should he encounter one of _those_. Perhaps he would just look at her with his unforgettably innocent emerald eyes. Yes, there was a strange aura of purity around his lover, even if he was no virgin, even if he was no naïve child…

Genesis sighed. He missed his angel.

"As _much_ as I am tempted," redhead drawled with unhidden mockery, "I am compelled to decline."

"Married, aren't you?" Her face appeared before Genesis' eyes. He would burn in hells if he ever called someone like her beautiful. "But I've never seen you around. From another place? A traveler? A newcomer?"

Too many questions. People who are up to just one night entertainment don't ask much. And on top of that she leaned over to him, their shoulders touching. With his mako enhanced senses Genesis could feel her hot breath. Gaia, he disliked being touched by _undesirables_.

With a frustrated grimace redhead moved away, picking up his goblet and heading upstairs. Thank the Goddess she didn't follow.

Genesis definitely wasn't in the mood for socializing with anyone. Back on Gaia it was rarely his habit to go out with someone other than Angeal or Sephiroth, and even they couldn't indulge themselves too often. His friends were above average in just about everything; gods, they were the best, and Genesis simply couldn't come down to the lower levels of communication. What did these people understand of dreams, of honor, of duty; even if those were Angeal's values, they were still values. Sometimes redhead thought most people just didn't believe in anything.

He wished to find a room where he could finish his water alone. Genesis tried some doors, but they were all locked until he found one that yielded. It was a small room with an old piano in it. Genesis pushed the door, silently sliding inside. A low chair with frayed dark-blue cushion on the seat caught his eye and redhead lifted it, pulled it nearer to the piano. He had a sudden desire to play and placing his hands on black and white keys he pondered what piece he could remember.

Only one resurfaced in his memory. A nameless melody. Smirking just a bit he remembered how he first confessed his feelings for Sephiroth. It happened to be in similar small room with a piano and he had just finished playing that particular piece. And somehow Genesis wasn't even surprised when their conversation almost turned out to be a disaster…

_*flashback*_

Love is not enough.

Genesis' fingers were gently sliding along the piano keys. The melody he was playing changed its rhythm, now diving into solemn depths, now fluttering as swarms of bright moths.

He composed this melody back at Nebelheim mansion. One day Genesis was particularly tired of his demonic looking copies; without comprehending why his thoughts returned to Sephiroth and a strange motif was born in his mind.

What if his beloved friend was a melody?

How could one describe a person in notes and sounds instead of words? And would he be a triumphant march or a wistful, volatile, almost weightless sonata?

The melody came into being easier than redhead first thought. He played a couple of chords and the rest of the piece came out by itself, from his heart.

Longing… molten silver… desire… bitterness… passion… monstrosity…

There was only one part missing. The melody had no name. Genesis felt if he called it then its captivating mystery would be revealed, and his cold fragile beauty undone.

Genesis closed his eyes, tilting his head; the world narrowed down to the flow of chords, and a sensual smile curved his lips. It was his melody after all, his Sephiroth.

Redhead knew why he fell in love with his friend. Other lovers were predictable and their relationships bored him too fast. Sometimes a simple smile, a simple sultry look was enough for redhead to get everything he wanted, in bed or otherwise. It felt as if they asked to become toys; to meddle with them for a short while and disappear.

It was all different with Sephiroth. His silver-haired friend had natural pride, self-respect and an inner steel rod; should Genesis betray him again, Sephiroth would walk away no matter how painful it was. Now matter what became of them he would forget. Sephiroth was no plaything.

And there was a lot more to Genesis' feelings than that. It seemed they were born to be one; his ardent passion was set off by Sephiroth's coldness and even temper, levity balanced out by his devotion, arrogance entwined with his innate dignity.

Sephiroth was all Genesis wasn't, and they were indeed equal. Redhead loved the notion of it to bits.

Genesis played the last chord and let go of the pedal. A melody without a name echoed through the small room for the last time and redhead turned on the stool to face his lover.

Sephiroth sat in a deep comfortable armchair, with his legs and arms crossed. His head hung, emerald flames hidden in the waves of silver moire. If Genesis didn't know better he would think his lover was asleep.

That day Sephiroth got up in a bad mood and even as evening fell little changed. His lover had his awful days; when he wondered as a shadow, silent and thoughtful. Genesis hated those days. Genesis hated when his lover was in one of his self-pitiful moods. Or at least such was redhead's impression. How else could one call these unexpected fits of guilt?

Obviously Sephiroth wasn't listening to Genesis playing that piece although redhead remembered it just for his silver-haired lover. Sighing with frustration he gracefully perched on the wide arm of the chair.

Silver head didn't even turn.

"Are you going to ignore me all day?"

Some of his disappointment must have shown for Sephiroth listlessly answered.

"I am not arguing with you."

"Gaia, I haven't even said anything about arguing. I was just curious why you picked this particular day to blame yourself. I'd say we go for a walk around the lake, and your mood will immediately improve."

He tried to take his angel's hand, but long fingers just slipped out of his palm. Silver-haired ex-general was silent, still avoiding his eyes.

"How many times do I have to repeat, it was _**not **_your fault." Redhead continued, slow anger taking possession of him.

"Believe what you wish, Genesis." This time he answered, in that same lifeless voice.

How very common of him, redhead thought; as if he didn't care what his lover believed in. Thank the Goddess he knew his Sephiroth better than that.

"Battle frenzy is the name for your state. It can happen to anyone, including me."

Sephiroth jerked up his head, so much pain and despair showing on his face, in his emerald eyes that Genesis didn't dare to interrupt.

"It has happened twice since Nebelheim. I went into battle and rage overtook me. I ceased thinking; I ceased feeling, I… I just ceased being."

Redhead gently joined their hands, moved his fingers over smooth skin and it stayed this time.

"Then stop battling."

Silver head shook.

"You know very well I can't. It's what I have done since childhood; it is so tightly carved into my heart, into my inner core that I don't feel my decisions matter in other cases, only on battlefields. And," Sephiroth wearily rested his head on the soft cushion of the chair, "besides, this is not the solution. What is my worth if I cannot control myself, if I cannot fight it?"

Genesis sighed.

"Then learn how. But stop burning yourself to ashes over something that was not in your power to avoid. People die; it is natural. They die getting drunk, in a bar fight. They waste their lives even without your meddling."

A bitter smirk found its way onto his thin lips.

"You don't understand, and it is not in my power to compel you to respect human life."

Genesis let go of his lover's hand, moving away.

"Great!" He exclaimed. "Now we are going to argue about morale; who killed more people, who destroyed more cities. It is beside the point, five or twenty five. We did it, and… that's it."

Fury ignited redhead too easily.

And it was of course his mistake. Icy mask hardened Sephiroth's refined features; deep voice froze over as a lake in winter.

"Even you with your arrogance can't say you've ever taken a child's life."

Genesis hated that mask as well. Sometimes it was so difficult to break through when he retired into himself.

Redhead shook his head with irritation, golden locks falling al over his face. Azure eyes looked directly into dim emerald depths, palms settled on his lover's knees.

"I only care about your life." Sephiroth opened his mouth to respond but Genesis interrupted him with a subtle movement of his hand. "Don't say anything. For you I would burn down dozens of villages like Nebelheim."

His silver-haired lover lifted his chin.

"How very reassuring…" Slowly, bitterly.

"Gaia, why are you so blind?" Genesis almost groaned with indignation. "Why can't you understand something so obvious?"

Sephiroth just continued staring at the ceiling.

"Yes, Genesis?"

Passion altered redhead's features as he breathed out.

"Why can't you see that I am in love with you? Like a madman."

Lifeless gaze, emerald eyes dark, empty. It was not the reaction Genesis expected.

"But what if it is not enough?"

"Not enough for WHAT?" Genesis was now shouting with ire, trying to hide his own pain behind the emotional outburst.

"To keep me human." Quietly, heart-brokenly.

That had done it.

Genesis jumped up, his voice dropping to a low angry growl.

"If I _**ever**_ hear you say it again, I will leave and never return!"

And a languid nod in response, indicating Sephiroth heard his words. Emerald eyes were as dull and dispassionate as before.

Did those words mean _anything_ to his lover?

In a swirl of black leather and golden sparks Genesis stormed out of the room, slamming the door behind. On the way out he grabbed a first glass that caught his eye, squeezed so hard that it shattered in his palm, tiniest shards piercing his skin. He felt no pain. He had to get some fresh air. This time it would have to be Sephiroth asking forgiveness. Genesis wasn't coming back until his silver-haired stubborn lover showed he cared, that their relationship meant something to him.

Midnight chill cooled his temper, but didn't soften the resolve. Genesis was not talking to his lover unless it would be Sephiroth's initiative. Redhead lost his patience being first– first one to kiss him, first one to share passion, first one to profess his love – and being denied all the time.

They lived in a small house by the lake. There was a narrow bridge nearby, and Genesis walked towards it. Wooden planks creaked underneath his boots when he stepped onto it and squatted, cupping his uninjured hand and washing the other with limpid water. Small carmine droplets fell into the lake. Wiping it dry redhead straightened. The forest showed black in the distance, and cool breeze rustled in the trees, playing with withering yellow leaves. Leaning on the wooden railing he absently watched moon rays dance on the dark surface of the lake. In times like this Genesis didn't understand his lover, at all. They had their differences, that much he knew. Everyone has their own differences. But this… this infuriated Genesis beyond anything.

He was about to jump into the air when…

Steps. Light as a whisper of wind in a crown of a tree. Arms. Strong as steel and warm as rays of setting summer sun, wrapping around his shoulders. Silver. With intoxicating smell of spring wind spreading over his frame, falling onto his forehead.

Sephiroth.

His deep voice was soft as his lips touched Genesis' ear, whispering.

"If you so wish to know I fell in love with you a long time ago. Even if I ran from it or didn't understand the meaning you all put into this word, I loved you. I still do." His voice slightly shook. "Only sometimes I feel we don't deserve what we have."

Genesis sneered, almost ruthlessly. Don't deserve. Than who does? They were the mightiest experiments of Shin-Ra electric company; it ruined their lives and almost destroyed their souls. Who deserved it better than them?

"You are insufferable," a curt, quite harsh response escaped his lips. Perhaps it was a bit of revenge. Perhaps he didn't have the time to think about what he said.

For an instant Genesis believed Sephiroth would be offended or hurt; that his lover would leave, depriving of warmth his embrace endowed Genesis with.

But instead… strong arms brought him closer, wrapped him tighter, and he trustfully rested his forehead on redhead's shoulder.

Genesis felt ashamed…

…Genesis placed his fingers on piano keys and began playing. Nameless melody filled the air of the small room. And soon he couldn't see the surroundings any longer; the stream of chords carried him away. Genesis was bathing in waves of moonlight silver, arching and wriggling in strong arms, moving in all-absorbing ebullient rhythm, rising and falling, falling and rising, seeing beads of glistening sweat on his pale refined face, drowning in lust filled emerald eyes, kissing his lips, slightly parted in a silent cry, swallowing his salacious shameless moans.

Genesis was the one, the only one for him. And it was for him that redhead played this music.

For him. For his lover and his angel. For Sephiroth.

Throwing back his head Genesis finished the piece with a low trembling chord and let go of the pedal. The last sound dashed around the room as if wanting to break free and died out in that vain attempt.

"Yours was a beautiful play," a girlish voice rang from behind, breaking Genesis' contemplation. She spoke slowly, drawling the 'r' sound in a funny childish way. Redhead turned around with the wriest smile on his lips. It looked he would not be able to find some time for himself, not today.

She was a bashful kid, little in height, little in what men could call beauty. Her cheeks were a bit pink; it seemed she had to gather all her courage to approach him. And her short dark hair somehow reminded Genesis of Angeal's apprentice Zack.

Sapphire eyes hazed over. Redhead could give her an answer. After all she was just a kid.

"It was for my beloved," his melodic voice rang quietly. Immediately the dark-haired girl flushed.

"Oh, I am sorry… I just liked the sound of it…" she looked away, fiddling about with green hem of her skirt. And then… " What's her name?"

Genesis hemmed, smirking.

"You mean what _his_ name is?" He asked anticipating what was to come. Dark eyes widened; blush deepened.

"Oh… she… he must be beautiful then," the girl mumbled, still avoiding his eyes.

"Yes, he is beautiful," Genesis' face got a faraway dreamy look even if for a brief instant. "Sephiroth is his name."

"Sephiroth," she repeated, in that same childish manner. "That is a name of an angel."

Angel's name…

Alone in his room falling asleep Genesis remembered her words. Angel's name.

Long feminine fingers absently slid along the covers where his love would usually lay beside him. The emptiness there was almost physical.

"…To gaze, how fondly! on thy face,

To fold thee in a faint embrace…" he whispered to the emptiness, fiery azure eyes closing.

His lover's image appeared in his inner darkness.

An image of a silver-haired one-winged angel.


	7. Chapter 7

Disclaimer: I own nothing or no one. Why would I need to, anyways?

Pairings: Sephiroth/Genesis

A/N: warning: dark themes, violence, again in memories (mostly this chapter is memories).

And my special thanks to isamu-michi and sphinxofthenile :)

So here you go…

_**Chapter VII.**_

_**Purity redefined. **_

Sephiroth looked over his shoulder, lifting his chin. His gaze slowly slid along the curve of a huge jet-black wing that was royally looming above, boldly challenging the sky. There was a reason why a human couldn't fly; there was a reason Gaia discarded him. Angels don't live on earth.

Wind was gently rustling in raven feathers, fondly caressing them. There was a droplet of beauty in it, feral and grave; one could call storm waves or blazing all-consuming fire beautiful, but it would be of the same kind. When one's heart stops beating, torn with fear and awe; when eyes widen and words are stuck in the throat.

Sephiroth closed his eyes and forced his wing to vanish. He could call it back any time at his will, and it would obediently appear, without pain or blood as it did in Nebelheim. Sometimes it felt as if his monstrous part just waited to be called for, waited to be used, craving to overtake him completely. Huge feathers circled their way to the ground, helpless and disunited. He caught one with his ungloved fingers. It was everything but natural.

Sighing, Sephiroth started walking uphill, his steps measured and elastic. He didn't wish to fly this time, trying to use his inhuman ability as little as possible. After all he was a SOLDIER and before he got this _gift_, he got accustomed to covering long distances on ground.

With that general's thoughts returned to his SOLDIER life, the only life he knew from his birth. Barely noticing the dusty rocky road he walked straight ahead, his mind far away from the scenery, from the pebbles that dropped out from under his boots.

Purity… Sephiroth couldn't quite put aside Genesis' words about his purity. How could his lover see any in him?

A child without a childhood, a human created as a monster, a general, a SOLDIER, a warrior. For most times all did was taking lives. He's seen… _things_, unimaginable in their ruthlessness during that war with Wutai. And Genesis called him pure.

A bitter smirk curved thin lips; his innocence died, remains of his faith in people shattered. After all…

_Memory is something like a personal hangman_. That was one of Genesis' dramatic descriptions, but this time Sephiroth felt as much. He remembered how he lost last remnants of his…

_*flashback*_

Purity.

Sephiroth was writing a report on his progress in Wutai. He had no computers on the field so those papers were to be filled out with his hand. Emerald eyes scanned neatly inscribed words, checked all the numbers one more time and then the general signed it. His personal signature carefully endorsed the document; to him it looked like a wing span.

Casualties were heavy, especially in those areas where he personally could not oversee the battle-front, or send Angeal and Genesis instead. Wutai troopers were no match for SOLDIER, but it was the Crescent Unit that did most damage.

General put the paper away and was about to take another blank form when a messenger rushed through the tent opening.

Sephiroth stared at the SOLDIER, knowing all-too-well his gaze unnerved. He disliked being interrupted without warning, but the white-faced youth didn't even notice his annoyance.

"General, S-sir, you n-need to see this," the third class messenger was stammering although this time general felt it was not due to his presence. SOLDIER's face had a greenish pale hue, and it appeared he was sick a couple of times.

Sephiroth immediately rose. Something had happened, something horrible.

"Lead the way," he snapped curtly, and the messenger gulped. Nodding he exited the tent, and the general followed. Massamune was securely strapped to his back.

Third class seemed to be too frightened to care about formality any more.

"We discovered them after the village was completely secured, Sir," he continued with explanations. "Private Jyde was on his usual search mission; we wanted to know if there were any survivors. But all we found…" He seemed to lose the track of what he was going to say. General didn't insist.

He was stationed alone this time, without his friends. Angeal and Genesis took care of Wutai battalions somewhere on the other side of the swamp, at the rearward. He had personal orders from the President to continue advancing.

This village was nothing but one of many on his way, one of many he bent to his will.

A narrow road straggled onward; SOLDIER confidently guided him through he maze of small houses and woven fences. His boots were sinking in reddish mud. The rain has just subsided into dull sprinkle.

The hut they stopped by was no different from any other. Low slightly lopsided structure. But the messenger visibly paled when approaching and barely had the strength to whisper "here" as his stomach turned. It was no weakness on the battlefield, so the general allowed himself a small bit of encouragement as he spoke.

"You shouldn't be ashamed, SOLDIER."

The third class wanly nodded, bending over and convulsively jerking.

Sephiroth shrugged pushing the door. And then he understood why. The sight which met his eyes was the worst he's ever seen in Wutai, the worst in his short but merciless life.

Women. Children. Dead. Maimed. Beheaded. Mutilated beyond recognition, their bodies sprawled on the wooden floor, slumped. Blood was everywhere – on the walls, underneath the pile of bodies, gathered in congealing pools, scarlet droplets vividly bright on morbidly pale skin of victims.

Flies swarmed, crawling into listless eyes, craving for the still warm flesh, bereaved of what people called the greatness of human mind.

They were the lucky ones.

Sephiroth saw it, the slaughter, in every detail, wishing for the first time in his life that his perfect sight would simply fail him and spare from seeing… _this_.

But the worst was still the smell. It filled his nostrils, ruthlessly turning from inside out, tearing like a rag doll.

Suffocating smell of decay, of death.

Even he with his legendary restrain had a sudden desire to vomit. He's seen blood before, on many occasions. But this… this was monstrous, inhuman. If it was someone from SOLDIER responsible for such actions, Sephiroth would order them to be executed immediately.

His legs rigid, inflexible the general walked out of the hut. Jade-green eyes focused on the third class, and he shook under that gaze.

"Who is responsible for this?" Sephiroth forced himself to speak, and heard the hoarse sound of his voice as if it belonged to somebody else.

"Wutaians, S-sir." the messenger mumbled, clearly avoiding his eyes, now burning from eerie mako hue. "We were able to catch a prisoner. He told us it was… a s-sacrifice to Leviathan. He told us no woman or child will live to the day when Wutai becomes Shin-Ra slave."

It took all of his strength and restrain not to throw up.

…Walking back to his tent the greatest general of Shin-Ra army remembered words he read in one of the books.

_War works the same way. More of a change than any loss of virginity… **_

And that's how Sephiroth felt. During that war with Wutai he entirely lost the habit of pitying himself. There were worse destinies. Much worse.

The general was barely twenty one but felt as if the weight of the whole world rested on his shoulders, as if he had lived a hard tiresome life and his days were numbered.

Sometimes the cruelty he encountered was illogically, unnaturally, inhumanly blind.

Sephiroth walked, barely noticing the surroundings, barely lifting his feet. Dozens of distorted bloodied faces flashed in his mind, carved into his memory as stigma. He would remember them for a very long time. For a long time he would occasionally wake up covered in cold sweat, his mouth dry and hands shaking, remembering the scene in the hut.

And for a long time he would remember messenger's words about freedom.

High was its price. Carmine was its color.

Yes, Genesis made a mistake. There was nothing pure in him any more. The remnants of his innocence were scattered along the sterile white halls of Shin-Ra main building, in those empty labs, on Wutai battlefields.

Sephiroth shivered, suddenly hurting, all the peace nothing but forgotten. Single wing soared airwards.

He had no desire to remember any more. And there was only one escape.

To fly.

...A village appeared before his eyes when the sun almost hid behind the dark line of horizon. Sephiroth didn't know its name and he never bothered to find out. What difference would it make?

He's seen so many of them that all the details didn't stick even in his photographic tenent memory.

This time his black clothes didn't stand out so he passed those few inhabitants who were out without drawing much attention to his person. Well, there still was his waist-length silver-hair, but he would never cut it…

Sephiroth didn't wish to find an inn. General was used to his solitude, and welcomed it way too often. Perhaps he could sleep under the stars or not sleep at all. That wouldn't be much of a problem.

Sephiroth looked round for a seat to sustain him and soon found a simple wooden bench.

What was he looking for? The silver-haired general didn't know the answer to that question himself. Another war? Another way to put his abilities to use? Genesis would try to talk him out of it especially knowing what could happen, but…

Sephiroth was no general any more, and yet he needed to see that his actions brought change; little at least, but life without any devotion didn't satisfy him.

And was he bound to search all his life, search for something so evanescent he couldn't even comprehend what it was?

Sephiroth sighed, almost inaudibly, and then…

Steps. He heard them long before that childish voice or saw a delicate frame, thin as a reed. Her hair bore a straw tinge, and eyes were pale blue. They reminded him of Genesis' only nothing could match that color, richest and uneclipsed he's ever seen.

The girl vigorously took a seat by his side and absently Sephiroth wondered if most people on Gaia feared him because of his glory and not his looks.

"Are you sad?" She asked at once, her innocent eyes as gimlets, filled with curiosity and… compassion.

Sad? Were people who concealed their emotions considered sad?

"No, I am not," Sephiroth smiled wanly, looking up at the sky. Actually he was quite happy. The girl followed his gaze.

"Do you know of an old belief? There are two stars called dragon's eyes, the brightest ones. If you see them together, you can make a wish, and it would come true. Last year I wished for my dad to come home, and he did. Today they'll be back, dragon's eyes I mean. Would you like to make one?"

Sephiroth gently shook his head; he didn't want to offend the little girl, but how could he explain that he never had a childhood for those beliefs. He grew up too fast.

"My wishes rarely come true." His voice deepened.

"I thought so." She gazed into emerald eyes, searching for something. "You are sad."

Sephiroth opened his mouth but words never passed his lips; he was… amused. That was a killer-argument, the hardest one to contradict. Childish argument.

"But you have to be happy." Her face suddenly got a serious, almost adult look. "We have but one life to be happy. So says my mom."

With that she abruptly rose and waving her hand disappeared around the corner.

Sephiroth smirked, although not at her words. The girl actually guessed a thought that was on his mind for a long time. He had a sudden desire to remember something truly happy, something with no smack of bitterness, with no hint of pain. He wanted to remember about…

_*flashback*_

The Promised Land.

It was the smell, always, that woke his senses; the smell so strong Sephiroth almost chocked. All those fragrances, undistinguishable, fresh and tantalizing; he never particularly cared about flowers, and now their smell seemed unpleasant.

Emerald eyes slowly opened, bright sun light immediately flickering between his lashes. He lay in the waist high grass; quaint bells of flowers swayed in the faint breeze. And the welkin above was crystal blue, as it has never ever been on Gaia.

He stirred and then…

"_Sephy_," melodic voice rang from somewhere, reaching his ears, bearing that slightest touch of mockery, mockery that was Genesis. "Welcome to the Promised Land."

He chuckled, raising himself on the elbow and meeting ardent azure eyes. His redheaded lover sat cross-legged with a huge white flower in his hand. Reaching out he playfully tucked its stem behind Sephiroth's ear. Snowy white bud immediately fell onto his cheek.

Sensual lips curved into a larky smile.

"You act like a woman, Genesis." He spoke with a chuckle, emerald eyes narrowing slightly.

Redhead looked back at him, with obvious supremacy, tilting his head. Sephiroth noticed how vividly auburn hair played in bright sun rays.

Like tenuous tongues of flames.

"My beautiful Sephiroth, what do you know of women?" He deflowered a scarlet bloom, small as a droplet of blood between his fingers. "It is men's courtesy to give them flowers."

Sephiroth smirked, snatching the stem from behind his ear; long fingers twiddled with it before throwing away.

"I hope you are not suggesting I am a woman."

"And what if I am?"

"Then I am not kissing you."

Genesis mock-groaned.

"If I didn't know you better I'd say you are bluffing. But unfortunately," now the bell in his hands was a deep sky-blue, and his lover inhaled its fragrance deeply before continuing, "you are not."

Genesis offered a flower to him, but silver head shook.

"I loved your poetry and your music, but flowers… I see nothing in them."

The next moment he was on his back, redhead's palm on his chest pushing him to the ground.

"I just wish to see what color suits you better," Genesis purred.

His hand brought a bell to Sephiroth's lips, gently contouring them, and continuing down to his neck, bare chest, and back up.

"It tickles," silver-haired ex-general smiled a lurid smile.

Genesis laughed throwing his head back. His hands suggestively slid along Sephiroth's body, gently undressing. He joined his lover in that delicious pursuit, denuding every inch of smooth goldish skin with almost parental patience and fondness.

Exposing Genesis venereal beauty step by step.

Its perfection was indescribable.

His desire was overwhelming.

Gracefully as if dancing, they exchanged places. Not redhead's thighs were firmly squeezed between his knees, palms on both sides of his lover's subtle neck, silver falling over his face.

Genesis lifted his head, gently nipping at his bottom lip. Sephiroth had no patience that day, deepening the kiss with fervent uncontrollable urge.

It was sheer flames, Genesis' mouth. He uttered a muffled moan, arching. It was sheer oblivion, when their lips joined, blind straying. Genesis' heat was never the same, only equally insurmountable.

"Gaia," redhead breathed out, catching his breath, when the kiss ended "I love when… you're in such… a mood."

The prelude was short. Sephiroth barely felt the taste of Genesis' flesh on his lips, barely felt his lover's warmth underneath his palms when they impatiently joined.

He was rising. Slowly at first, as if trying to taste the delicate dish, as if trying to drink Genesis' passion to the very last droplet, as if trying to reach his very core, his lover's wanton screams reaching Sephiroth's ears through the deafening drum roll of his own heart beat.

He was rising. Vehemently, Genesis palms imprinted into his hips in zealous ardent grip, pushing him further and further.

He was rising.

Rising from ashen dust of burned Nebelheim to the heights of inexistent Elysium…

From nothing – to bliss…

Sephiroth leaned on the wooden back of the bench, folding his arms. It was a good memory, and a warm wave rose in his chest, together with an overwhelming sensation of peace. Sephiroth closed his eyes reveling in those waves, without bitter resentment, without agonizing pain. That emotion was not new and had nothing to do with passion or lust. General always felt it when Genesis cited poetry, when he looked into the endless abyss of sky-blue eyes, when their fingers casually met with a dab.

Perhaps it was what others called love, perhaps it was not; little of the name bothered him. Being with Genesis stirred whole-souled gaiety; and felt as if the insides of his soul were turned inside out and spat at when betrayed. Sephiroth never knew how to profess these feelings; he rarely felt the need to. They were as bashful snowdrops rising from under the white winter blanket.

He had an excuse, a petty one at best. No one ever taught him how to love; all Sephiroth knew was the emptiness of a taken life. He was trained to kill; love was never an option.

Sephiroth closed his eyes and yet the emotion felt like awakening.

He smiled, thin lips curving just a bit. It was almost like sitting beside his friend and his lover, their hands barely touching; as if Genesis was truly there.

Was and wasn't…

Sephiroth didn't want to sleep; didn't want to wake up with a sensation of drowning in Genesis' blood as he did a couple of times since Modeoheim.

He didn't want that emotion to disappear.

Instead Sephiroth sat for another minute or so and then got up, unsheathed the Massamune, walked to a small field, obviously desolated for some time. Thick weed covered the ground, sometimes reaching his knees. Taking leather boots off, the former general of Shin-Ra left them nearby and took a stance.

It was now dark, first stars twinkling on the velvet veil that separated this village from other worlds and planets.

"And to thee shall night deny

All the quiet of her sky…" he whispered under his breath, Massamune slashing through thick tresses of green grass.

It was his art, his music, his poetry. Perfect. Fascinating. Frightful. Cold as chilling breath of death, precise and refined as movements of a sculptor's chisel.

A step to one side, bluish curve flashed, falling, singing its song, whispering its eerily evocative promises.

After all what could it be telling about?

About wasted lives, about mother's wistful tears for their long lost sons, about widows who piped their eyes over maimed bodies of their husbands.

Cold in its cruelty and bewitching in its beauty Massamune was now rising again, twisting in Sephiroth's ungloved hand, each movement of lean slender frame insensate, performed without much thought, studied.

One step, and another one following. One turn and another one catching up.

Sephiroth was dancing, streams of silver washing over his frame, morning dew under his bare feet.

Life seemed so simple in moments like this, clear as a flare of rising sun on the tip of Massamune…

"Genesis?"

Their lips barely touching, breaths mingled, darkness shrouding them as a cloak, only green mako enhanced eyes glow as will-o'-the-wisps.

"Yes, Sephiroth?"

"May I ask something?"

Azure eyes lazily open.

"Hm?"

"If I ever turn into a monster you will take my life."

His head immediately jerks, eyes igniting with hellish flames.

"Don't ask," he snaps harshly.

"Genesis…" Sephiroth tries to object, and then…

The melody in his voice changes into a lisp of withered leaves.

"Please."

Genesis has never spoken like that before.

_**Never.**_


	8. Chapter 8

Disclaimer: I own nothing or no one. Why would I need to, anyways?

Pairings: Sephiroth/Genesis

A/N: don't know what to say, really ^_^ Long conversation between Sephiroth and Genesis…

And a bit of angst, some of Gen's and Seph's unpleasant memories :)

_**Chapter VIII.**_

_**Past and present entwined. **_

When they got back together, even after a short parting, it felt as if they loved each other for the first time.

It was a sui generis harmony of tenderness and roughness, when their lips grouped after each other in darkness, when their long fingers interlaced over their hearts, frozen, eyes drowning in soft shining blue-green light so that the next moment their bodies would fervently entwine, flesh with flesh, craving, burning, yearning for raw emotions.

It was the longing, with which they clung together, strong arms alternating in gentle caresses, bodies moving in a slow rhythm, as if submitting to an inner inaudible melody.

It was the soft laughter, escaping redhead's lips, followed by a chuckle, when the teasing got a bit too sensual.

It was sheer flames, shared between the two, binding them as one; they moved together, breathed together, moaned together. The rose together and fell together, still joined in one, interweaved.

It was a whisper, breathed out in unity into each other's lips:

"Sephiroth…"

"Genesis…"

It felt as if they simply could not get enough.

It felt as if they loved each other for the first and for the last time in their lives...

"Sephiroth?"

"Yes, Genesis?"

Redhead looked at his lover's face; he was smiling, that cryptic, almost knowing smile. He couldn't meet his eyes for emerald flames were concealed behind the long slightly trembling lashes. After such nights he felt it was safe to ask anything, when Sephiroth's guard and restrain thinned to almost nothing.

"Did they hurt you when you were a child?"

He raised himself on the elbow; white sheet slipped down, exposing perfect curves of his body, silver cascading over his bare shoulders, pale skin faintly glistening with sweat. Genesis' unchaste taint to mar his purity.

He was a god, from tiptoes to the arching strands of moonlight hair, a god from ancient tragedies Genesis was so particularly fond of. And he dared loving a god; at that moment it sounded like blasphemy.

"They did," the overtones of deep voice were quite dispassionate.

Genesis knew it was a mask, a mask he always put on not to show how hurt he really was, and that too soon it would be gone. Even before redhead left for that ill-fated mission in Wutai, he learned how to unmask him. They shared a lot, always.

And Genesis was right; Sephiroth continued, in that same calm voice, only slightly softer this time. Softer and a bit more passionate.

"Because of them I've never seen the world as all children do. Oversimplified, yes, but a safe peaceful place." His hand rose and fell. "Ruthlessness and indifference were the only inhabitants of my world."

Genesis softly smiled.

"I always wondered how you grew up so pure."

He shrugged.

"I've never been a naïve innocent person. In that you are wrong."

Their eyes met and redhead shook his head. He felt mildly amazed.

"But you are still pure. You forgave them, didn't you? For all those ruined years, for the pain and emptiness, even if it cost you too much. When we first met you forgot how to smile." He leaned closer, their foreheads touching; and his fist involuntarily clenched underneath the sheet. "I… I would have never found the strength or the motive to. I would have hated them."

That was his purity, Genesis finally realized. Sephiroth never hated people who ruined his life, not until they took his humanity, at least.

His deep voice disrupted the flow of redhead's thoughts.

"I had no other choice. People are not born emotionless. They become such…" his inhumanly beautiful eyes flashed painfully bright as falling stars, "… to survive. Because I felt, Genesis, I felt everything. Until I understood I had to find the means to cage my feelings or they would have destroyed me. It was when I started asking myself…"

_*flashback*_

Questions.

Those are helpless questions.

_Why me? _

_Why do I have to go through it all? _

_Why is it my fate and not someone else's?_

Those are questions of a lonely child, who helplessly stands in the cold lab.

Those are all-too-human questions; when one is in distress, in despair, they come as expression of a feeling the world is unjust.

Those are questions that bear no answers.

Sephiroth knows better than to scream; no one of them ever cared about how he felt. Sephiroth knows better than to cry; test subjects like him don't cry. But it doesn't help, even when he ruthlessly racks his lips, biting them to blood.

They force him onto the table. Bright neon light cuts through his eyes. He fights, but dozens of arms clasp him to the metal surface, and cold handcuffs cut into his wrists.

He is caged. Defeated.

His breath is heavy, teeth clenched, eyes burning on the pale face. They don't' even look at him, as their dispassionate muffled voices fill his ears. They discuss something, something about more mako and excessive treatments.

_Why? Why do they not see that I am hurting? Why do they not care? _

All he wants is to break free; hands twitch, iron shackles clank. Nothing.

"Calm down, my boy, or it is going to hurt more," Hojo's listless voice rings in his ears.

He is silent. He can't even plead. The will not listen.

Syringes stick into his flesh, and his bones begin to ache. Writhing on the metal table he realizes he is going to break so strong are his emotions.

Flooding as liquid flames, the desire to see the walls of his cage collapsing. Burning as poison in his veins, pounding as drum roll in time with his heartbeat, his heart thrashing about the cage of his chest as a stricken bird.

_Why… Why… Why…_

He has to stop feeling, now!

Because as pain sinks its icy claws into his body, crushing every conscious thought, drowning every dream, every desire in utter darkness, one question still remains.

Rebellious. Unanswered. Vain.

_**Why me?**_

Silence ensued, long, awkward; to Genesis it felt as if his lover regretted about sharing. And he knew better than to offer too much consolation; pity was not going to help Sephiroth, only make him turn away from the redhead. Weaknesses of strong people were such a delicate subject; carefully hidden behind layers and layers of shields, they were hard to unmask. But once revealed…

Perhaps it was better if some things remained in memories… forever.

So instead Genesis let his hand settle on his bare shoulder, slide along the curve of his chest, his waist, his thigh; every inch he touched shed perfection.

And that godlike purity he couldn't stop thinking about.

The quiet question followed as Genesis was beginning to realize something.

"Is this why you denied me?"

A simple curt nod.

"Your passion…" he smiled as if remembering. "It woke something in me. I never had any control over that emotion."

His eyebrow arched, showing just a little frustration.

"And what's wrong with that?"

He shouldn't have asked that question. Pain distorted angelic features, unhidden this time, marring his beauty.

"You could easily ignite it in me and then take away, just as effortlessly, all at your whim. You could possess me, play with me; you demanded too much, this is how it felt. And I…" his voice toned down to a low rumble, "I was too often manipulated and played with as a child."

Redhead knew he had to back away. This was too much, even for the mood his lover was in. But his frustration, perhaps unduly exaggerated, was only growing stronger and stronger, and a retort passed his lips without much thinking.

"We could have taken things… slower… if I knew."

Sephiroth sighed, almost inaudibly, and yet his voice was stern.

"Does it matter what could or could have not been?" He turned away, looking up at the ceiling as if searching something.

"I don't…" Genesis tried to object, but his lover's cold voice interrupted him.

"Would it change your mind? Would you stay when you found out about the wing?"

Words were stuck in Genesis' throat; he couldn't look into his lover's eyes, casting his gaze down, hiding the truth even as his lips whispered against his will.

"No."

Just a single simple 'no'.

_Without pride love is dust…_

Sephiroth's fingers lifted redhead's chin, forcing him to look into emerald depths. His lover wasn't angry, just a bit rueful, perhaps. He couldn't move, couldn't breathe until thin lips softly whispered in return.

"I know. And I don't wish it to be any other way."

Sephiroth threw his head back at the pillow, stretching. They lay in silence, thinking of something; redhead's thoughts were mostly on those words his lover had just said.

And then his quiet question rang again.

"Others don't think that way about passion, do they?"

"No." Genesis gently leaned over and kissed him, Sephiroth responded. "They don't."

Silver head moved away just a bit, wan bitter smile curving his lips.

"I always felt I was… different."

Genesis' lips clung to his neck, kissing their way from the collarbone to his lover's chin. He softly laughed, his voice reverberating in redhead's mouth.

"And that is what I always loved about you."

Sephiroth smiled. And finally it was a sincere one, a heartfelt gratitude for his words.

Gaia, why was he so in love with that smile?

"Come, I've got a surprise for you."

…Genesis gently pushed his lover to the edge of a bathtub full of hot water. Sephiroth hemmed.

"You want me to take a bath with you?"

Redhead nodded with a slightly sly smile.

"You will enjoy it, believe me."

His angel sighed, and white robe glissaded off his shoulders, silver sparks flaring up and down his waist-length hair. Genesis immediately felt heat rising, flushing his abdomen, fluttering as butterflies.

Unclothed Sephiroth was beautiful, almost otherworldly inhumanly beautiful.

Yes, he was a god. Scintillated with his purity, unchangeable in his perfection, an eternal mystery in his ambiguity. And they were equal. Just the thought of it stirred indescribable pleasure, somewhere deep within.

Meanwhile his lover gracefully stepped over the edge, sat down, stretching his legs. The surface of limpid water rippled, and silver strands floated on top.

Genesis impatiently disrobed himself, climbed into the bathtub, immediately feeling pleasant warmth. Wrapping his legs around his lover's waist redhead comfortably settled on Sephiroth's chest, placing his chin on alabaster shoulder, feeling hot water and strong hands merging behind his back. And then whispered into his angel's ear.

"I've got something for you."

He was silent. With a splash Genesis' hand reached out for an apple he picked on his way back. It was a goldish fruit, nothing like the tender purple white Banora, but it still tasted deliciously.

One silver eyebrow arched; he was now smirking, a bit.

"I thought you'd never eat any besides dumbapples…"

Genesis brought the fruit to his lover's lips, marvelling every move as he gently obediently bit it.

"I am glad I still have something that elicits curiosity in you."

With that Genesis joined him; for some time they simply enjoyed the honied taste of the ripe mellow apple, biting from each side, eyes locked. Genesis was drowning in emerald depths; warm water relaxed and curves of his lover's perfect body underneath his own soothed.

Finally there was nothing left of that apple. Redhead let go of the core and with an archly smile drew forward. Luscious seductive bow of thin lips was oh-so close when his silver-haired lover threw his head back. Genesis straightened, slightly frustrated, as another apple appeared in Sephiroth's long fingers. Silver-haired angel bit it, emerald eyes staring at him with a mocking glint.

Games? His lover was in the mood to play games…

Genesis had no choice but to obey; sweet juice filled his mouth, and redhead licked his lips. The prelude was repeated tantalizingly slow. Genesis barely had the patience to look into those shining eyes, to watch those lips, but he had to hold out.

It was a game, a game with no rules, but redhead could only assent to a draw.

When they finished eating the second apple, lips were so close that Genesis felt his faint breath. He hungrily captured his lover's upper lip – this time Sephiroth didn't object – tenderly ran his tongue over the perfect bow. He didn't feel that usual bergamot mint taste, just the honied juice of an apple.

He gently, playfully nipped at it as he would bite a sun-heated skin of a ripe fruit.

This time Genesis kissed him slowly, playing with upper and bottom lips, before letting his tongue slide in-between, feeling the ardour of his lover's mouth.

Their tongues met gently at first, only being gentle never satisfied Genesis. His fervent lips seemed as nectar, which one could drink and drink, and never feel satiated.

When the kiss ended Sephiroth breathed out.

"Can't you ever have enough?"

He softly snorted.

"When it comes to me, this word loses its meaning."

Genesis sank and took his lover's nipple into his mouth, contouring with his tongue, gently, wantonly. Sephiroth moaned, the sound of his deep voice hoarse as redhead's name passes his lips. Ice melted in Genesis' hands, submissively, effortlessly, as he bit the hardened flesh, feeling how his body trembled. Sephiroth's heartbeat and breathing quickened at once.

Such pleasurable dedication, redhead smirked into his lover's pale skin, to dethrone a god, to steal his purity. Sephiroth moaned again as his hands slid along Genesis' back and lower, long subtle fingers penetrating his heated flesh. Redhead hissed, inhaling sharply, lifting his head, arching into his lover's flushed body.

It was still in his power to extinguish the flames just a bit, to make the unbearable pleasure last a little longer. Redhead raised himself on slightly shaking arms – after all his lover's fingers were still _inside_ – resting his palms on the edges of a bathtub and looked at Sephiroth. Yes, little of his purity remained in moments like this; after all what innocence could there ever be in those lust shaped features, in those parted slightly swollen lips, in that faint moan that escaped them again as Genesis found a sensitive spot on his neck, the sound of it oh-so lewd, screaming of barely controlled desire?

_Gaia, why are his fingers__** so**__ hot, __**so**__ patient and __**so**__ long?_

Genesis hissed again.

He still had power to…

Perhaps, not…

No, he had none…

…Genesis opened the tap, refilling the bathtub. He had no desire to go anywhere and neither did his lover. The tile of the floor was wet; water was spilled during their last…

Genesis smirked, returning to his place on Sephiroth's chest. Soft silver strands adhered to his back. Emerald eyes watched him, still hazed over from pleasure.

His lover's hand ran through his auburn hair before Sephiroth spoke.

"You amuse me, Genesis."

He nuzzled into the crook of his neck.

"Tell me something I don't know." Redhead's voice was a purr.

A chuckle. He couldn't see his angel's face.

"I'll save all the fine words to you."

Genesis stirred, getting more comfortable. He could bet his life Sephiroth was teasing him.

Life would have been awfully boring without his friend and lover.

"I had a childhood dream as well, Sephiroth," he spoke suddenly. The decision was abrupt, made without a second thought.

"Which one?" Softly, fingers sliding along his cheek.

"To become a poet." Genesis sighed, burying his face in glimmering silver.

"Then why did you join SOLDIER?"

"I never had the choice, really. Shin-Ra came for me on one peaceful ordinary day." Genesis closed his eyes, slightly shuddering. "I was the SOLDIER type G. Hollander told me of my main… purpose. My genes were easily copied unlike yours; and thus gave them the possibility to create an army of my clones in no time."

There was anger in his voice, cold and delusively calm as his lover spoke.

"Mindless SOLDIER… we were supposed to be nothing but items. And whose fault is that we were born with souls and hearts?"

He waved aside. SOLDIER life didn't matter any longer. There was no going back. Not that Genesis felt any regret, at all.

"I am glad we were."

Their fingers met, interlacing. Strong fingers, ruthless on the battlefield and so deceptively soft in caressing each other.

Genesis lifted his head, looking directly into emerald depths. They could easily both heal and forsake. Bright as distant coy stars, cryptic as deep trench, cold as ice.

Those were his eyes. Angel's eyes.

"In your eyes I am born anew…" melody in his voice was quiet.

Sephiroth didn't hear his words.

"Hm, what did you say, Genesis?"

"Nothing, my beloved," redhead whispered into his ear, lips tickling marble skin. "Nothing."

He couldn't look into those demanding emerald eyes any longer, glad that Sephiroth now closed them.

_Without pride love was indeed dust…_

And yet – such an irony – without love pride turned out to be of even less value…

_Crystal goblet in his long fingers. Squeeze it sharply, ruthlessly; glass crackles, yielding to his rabid onrush, and streamlet of shards flows to the floor. Small pieces pierce his skin, but he doesn't feel any pain. He looks at his reflection in the mirror, at morbidly pale skin, at his gray hair, and the emotion, stirred by the sight of him fading away kills everything else. _

_After all what are shards jutting out of his palm compared to the dawning sinking realization that he is dying? _

_His tears withered; azure eyes burn ardently, empty, frightful, void. _

_Memories die, stirring nothing in him. Nothing besides hatred. _

_Cold tasteless bliss… _

_Perfect curve of his friend's fiery lips between his own… a sudden desire to bite them, mercilessly, to feel blood flooding his mouth…_

_Fingers clench, another glass bursts with a crunch, bloodstained shards fall onto the floor, joining myriads of their siblings. _

_They are his dreams… his naïve, childish dreams… to write poetry, to love his friend, to become a hero… _

_He hates his dreams for they are pitiful reminders of who he once was, of who he could have been if not for…_

_If not for these… this… wing…_

_Fists clench._

_Traitors… all of them… everyone…_

_He would make one hellish bonfire of this worthless despicable world; it would reach the sky and then he'd demolish the blackened welkin stone by stone; he would, only… _

_Only his strength is dwindling… his fire is fading… his breath is shallow…_

_He is dying…_

_He wipes his face with his palm, leaving scarlet marks on his flesh. His lips, sensual, beautifully shaped, born for kisses, for love curve into a ruthless inhuman sneer, scarlet stains holding them up to shame of a murderer, of an angel, who dares to scorn all known morale. _

_There is only one salvation, only one escape – hatred. Hatred ignites his inner flames, keeps him going no matter what, but sears from the inside, leaving nothing but a wasteland covered in weightless downy ash…_

_His hair is ashen in color…_

_He is dying…_

Fear. Fear flooded his thoughts as redhead abruptly woke up, azure eyes fluttering open. Water surrounded him, Sephiroth's warm body underneath, and yet the dream was so unbearably tangible and distinct that Genesis couldn't comprehend where he was, stuck in the world somewhere in-between his nightmare and reality.

Shaking his lover's shoulders, waking him, Genesis almost screamed.

"My hair!" His voice was hoarse, trembling, spiritless. "What is the color of my hair, Sephiroth?"

Emerald eyes, hazed over with slumber, stared at him with disarray, silver eyebrows flushing as frightened birds.

Redhead's hands clutched onto his lover's shoulders, nails digging into pale flawless skin, leaving scarlet marks. Azure eyes flashed as coals in a silent plea.

_Answer me, Sephiroth!_

Sephiroth gently removed his palms, wrapping his arms around Genesis' shoulders, bringing him closer; his angel understood everything without words.

"What is the color of my hair?" Quieter, despair subsiding, waning in the warmth of his embrace. Drowning in the sound of deep calm voice, full of soothing velvety caress as thin lips brush his ear in a whisper:

"You hair is perfectly fine, Genesis. It was just a dream."

And his head finally rested against his lover's chest, face buried in silver moire, long ethereal fingers tenderly running through wet auburn locks, for all that golden and fiery, little droplets falling into the cooling water of a bathtub like tears.

_Drip-drop, drip-drop, drip-drop…_


	9. Chapter 9

Disclaimer: I own nothing or no one. Why would I need to, anyways? And poetry is Byron's as always.

Pairings: Sephiroth/Genesis

A/N: mildly dark in general.

And my thanks to sphinxofthenile. Your words are a great inspiration ^_^

_**Chapter IX.**_

_**Divine wrath.**_

The fate thou didst so well foresee,

But would not to appease him tell;

And in thy Silence was his Sentence,

And in his Soul a vain repentance…

_Two and a half months ago…_

It was anger, Genesis knew. It showed in his every abrupt move as he was pacing from one corner of a small room to another, in thinning line of his lips, in sparks of azure flames between his eyelashes as he shot glances at the silver-haired frame. Sephiroth sat at the table, back straight as an arrow. A pencil was in his hand and a map spread out before his eyes.

Engrossed in his work he didn't even notice the state redhead was in. Sephiroth was studying this map for two hours hand-running. Genesis had neither patience nor desire to help his lover this time. This cause seemed totally worthless to him.

"We would meet them here," Sephiroth finally turned, placing pencil's tip on the map between the scaled images of two hills, just a bit behind the stream. "The gorge is narrow enough to defend even with what little force we have, and protect the village."

Genesis looked over his lover's shoulder almost against his will. He was curious. The terrain gave them clear advantage, only…

"But how are you going to make them follow you into the trap?" Redhead didn't wish to hold back his sarcasm.

A shadow marred angel's beautiful face, silver eyebrows knitting into straight line.

"Rearguard will try to stop them by the river crossing, and then retreat. They will follow. After all," Genesis could have sworn his smile was sad, "the feeling of success does make people commit stupid mistakes."

"The rearguard will have to perish then." More of a statement. And a curt nod in return. Sephiroth was silent, looking out of the small window in the hut. Emerald eyes were distant, calm.

He estimated their strength; perhaps he even had two or three back up plans. Genesis knew Sephiroth excelled at tactics, albeit right now he wished his lover didn't. Then, maybe then he wouldn't do something as stupid as he was about to.

"Going to play the hero once again?" Every word redhead said was dripping with venom.

"It has nothing to do with that," a cold retort passed his lover's lips at once.

"Then what can it possible be about?"

The smile on his thin lips was indeed knowing.

"I always wondered why you wanted it so much, the role of a hero I mean. Such titles come with responsibilities and glory only leads to solitude and loss."

Gloved fists clenched; was Sephiroth lecturing him? Genesis sighed to calm himself. There was sense in his lover's words although he never thought of it that way. Not that anyone needed to know.

"That is not the answer. These… people don't deserve it in the slightest. They wouldn't even know what to do with the freedom you are so eager to bestow them with."

Sephiroth shrugged, rising.

"Perhaps."

Indifferently. Nonchalantly. Genesis felt ignored. Did his opinion mean anything, anything at all?

In the mean time Sephiroth came to stand in front of the chair, picking up his leather coat and throwing it over his shoulders. He inspected all materia slots, checked the shoulder straps so that nothing would be out of place or by no means blemished or imperfect. Then he buttoned it, to the last clasp this time.

Sometimes little details lead to fatal mistakes on the battlefield.

Genesis watched him and despite his indignation had to admit his lover was gorgeous. Even the way his refined hand threw his silver hair just a little back, out of the way, long fingers twiddling with unruly soft tresses…

Gaia, he was glorious. Magnificent.

Only his fit of anger wasn't subsiding.

"I am not saving you should something happen this time." Redhead spoke furiously, and yet deep in his heart he knew he was shamelessly lying. How could he not?

His lover shrugged, still with his back to the redhead. He was putting on black gloves, slowly, almost thoughtfully as if going through the possible events of upcoming battle in his head. To Genesis it seemed Sephiroth didn't even hear him, although it happened rarely.

After that Sephiroth grabbed his legendary weapon and strapped to his back.

"And so what am I supposed to do? Watch and record your glorious deeds?"

Silver head turned at the sound of him speaking, just a bit.

"You are of course welcome to join me if you wish. You know that."

"Not this time," Genesis growled out, casting his eyes down and abruptly turning on his heels.

"Then," a faint smirk, barely audible in his deep voice, "you are certainly welcome to write about my _heroic_ feats."

Even with the mockery the sentence rang bitterly. Genesis let out a loud sigh…

Before Sephiroth exited the hut he turned around and looked directly into his eyes.

"Change is violence." He said sternly. It was useless to argue. "Because sometimes old stagnant traditions have to die, and death is never painless."

Genesis knew he heard _the general_.

Sephiroth wasn't with him any longer…

Sephiroth was rising.

From dusty ground to clear azure heights, the creek, the village and the hills left below as colored stains on the virgin black ground.

He was rising, wind playing with the flap of his leather coat, whistling as the blade of Massamune mercilessly ripped through the air.

He was rising, feet slowly becoming airborne, huge wing spread out, silver flying asunder over his frame.

He was rising, arching as if in ecstasy, as if in bliss ignited by his passionate lover.

He was rising, and below little human frames scattered like scurrying ants near the crushed anthill. The sky darkened, submitting to each movement of his hand, maelstrom forming on the tip of his gloved finger and thrusting into peaceful welkin as a spear.

He was rising and smirking, eyes flashing as pools of liquid emerald flames.

He was rising…

_The lab was as cold and as unfriendly as before. Bright neon light cutting through his eyes, hard surface of a table underneath his shoulder blades, pain driving its sting into his body. It never changed, never would. _

_He was different. _

_He still felt, but all his pain and fears were safely hidden in a deep well, covered by a steel slab. He accepted his fate. He forgave. _

_Smirking, expression barely visible in corners of his lips, he extended his right arm with grace and self-assertion. Hojo was extremely satisfied by this turn of events, he knew. And he couldn't say the opposite. _

_He was born for greater deeds, and in time it would all change. That thought gave him warmth mother's love stirred in children's hearts._

_That thought gave him strength and courage father's encouragements ignited in their sons. _

_That thought gave him support of friends he never had. _

_That thought was all he was bestowed with._

_And little did he know that his smirk, his movements, his thoughts didn't resemble those of a seven-year-old child._

He was rising… And below him thin black towers of hurricane were tearing through the small village, reducing houses to rubble, setting them aflame. Desperate cries for help and fervent entreaties didn't bother him in the slightest.

"…_The love where Death has set his seal,_

_Nor age can chill, nor rival steal,_

_Nor falsehood disavow:_

_And, what were worse, thou canst not see_

_Or wrong, or change, or fault in me."_

_Words passed his lips, words he never thought of saying. Words he saved for this one day when he had the chance to ask his friend to come back. He knew Genesis wanted to hear them; albeit they were hard to voice out. _

_First words, first love. Too naïve for the world he lived in. _

_And Genesis did prove him right. _

_He paled, but the melody of his voice reverberated barely hidden loathing._

"_Monsters don't have friends. Such is our fate."_

_He was hurt, hurt to a point when he couldn't hide it._

"_What about dreams?" _

_And again with that same sickening, hidden from everyone, only not from him, hatred. _

"_Dreams… monsters dream of revenge."_

_Genesis soared upwards, leaving nothing but a single feather circling its way to the floor. He caught it – huge, jet-black, and smooth. It lay in his hand, its curve like a sneer snaking Genesis' sensual lips. Lips he once felt as his own…_

_That was all Genesis was going to say. That was his decision. _

_And a feeling was waking in him, like a dull ache alternating with piercing needles, sharp and hot behind the stone mask. _

_Perhaps that's how a broken heart felt like._

He was rising.

Betrayed by everyone he cared for, betrayed by his birth itself that turned him into the ugliness he now was. How dare they betray him again?

_You were born to rule over them. _

They were nothing; worms at the feet of a god, dust on cerement, ephemerons at best.

_Bring them down to their knees; make them bleed for every pain you overcame, for every step you took, for every life you wasted. _

He was rising.

Gods do not squander their _gifts_ on trifles; gods punish. And when they do earth trembles and the sky is torn asunder.

Last coherent thoughts were fading away.

He was rising…

And then somewhere in the corner of his eyes there was a flash of red light, as a spark of a comet in utter darkness. And the world split into halves.

He was falling.

Sephiroth was standing near the tree, almost leaning into it as if he was about to collapse. Long fingers were clutching at the bark, his breath heavy, husky, clothing and hair dirty from the fall, shoulders rising and falling as if possessing a will on their own; redhead felt he had little willpower at times like these. And little did he care about anything, him included.

Genesis sat on the log nearby, face hidden in his palms. He would look at his lover occasionally, eyes never lingering on his frame for too long.

It was painful to look at Sephiroth, the feeling so palpable, tearing through his heart. It hurt, Gaia, it hurt so much…

Genesis knew what had happened. Genesis thought it might, but never was persistent enough to talk his angel out of that stupid undertaking.

There was a share of his fault in everything, perhaps.

They betrayed his lover; the people. They signed the treaty behind his back, and in the end left him alone on the road, left for captivity or death.

They didn't know they dared consign a god to oblivion.

Such was human nature, redhead thought with anger and contempt.

Genesis wasn't with him at that moment, and Sephiroth lost his temper. He almost lost himself again. Perhaps there was nothing that could hurt his lover more than treason, and who was Genesis to judge him?

In the end redhead betrayed his angel.

And yet… it was an accursed circle. Sephiroth would have gone into that battle even if he knew he was going to lose.

Why? Redhead knew no answer.

Perhaps to Sephiroth it felt like an ablated arm; the flesh wasn't there but the feeling he could move it, could trace fingers over his face, could clench them still persisted.

Genesis only knew better than to shout something like "I warned you, didn't I". It wasn't the time or the place to display his feelings.

Sephiroth was in the state he had no power over.

"What makes us human beings?" The question rang painfully, desperately and yet redhead felt it was a rhetorical one. They knew what set them apart from monsters, only sometimes it was so hard to believe.

Knowing and believing were such different notions after all.

Sephiroth pushed the tree aside, made a few steps and fell to his knees, stooping, long fingers sinking into dirt.

Genesis knew better than to help him or touch him in any way. Genesis could only sit and watch, powerless, helpless, as his lover tortured himself over and over again…

Thunderstorm was tearing the sky asunder. Lightning shot through the darkness, flash after flash, blinding, volatile, albeit powerful enough to ignite the flames. Illusion of beauty cased in a deadly shape.

Rain whipped the trees and streets below, long lashes cold and ruthless, a faint whisper to his ears.

Sephiroth lay on the bed beside his lover, motionless, dull emerald eyes opened, blankly staring at the ceiling. Shadows danced on the whitewash, fluttering, trembling, and hideous to his sight. His hand was joined with Genesis', but little warmth it gave wasn't enough to melt the ice inside his heart.

He felt dead.

His throat shuddered in vain spasm, but tears were shed for his mother a long time ago. He forgot how to cry.

He felt empty.

Rising abruptly, Sephiroth freed his hand and went to the balcony.

All those images, burning faces, mouths opened in silent pleas, hands lifted up to the sky, flashed in his mind. Who did they pray to? Who would answer them?

Sephiroth leaned onto the iron ornamented railing.

Did they suffocate from smoke first or die of burns? Questions stirred nothing in him, his heart a cold stone in his chest.

An unavailing burden.

He held his face up to the lashes of rain water. It filled his eyes, his mouth, ran down his cheeks like tears the ex-general for once wished he could shed. Little limpid streamlets in the corners of his eyes, cold substitutes for warm live salty droplets. Salty?

He forgot their taste.

How far was he going to run? How far could he run?

And then, suddenly…

"I know how you feel." Gentle melodic voice rang from behind. "Empty. Drained. I felt the same. There is nothing much left after all when you understand you murdered your parents."

Sephiroth was silent as his lover joined him. Auburn hair immediately began dripping, his porcelain skin becoming covered in clear globules of rainwater, much like his own, as beads of sweat on his lips, on his cheeks, glistening in every ghostly flash of lightning.

Genesis turned, looked at him intently.

"Then taste at least this." Cold trembling lips pressed themselves to his, bashfully, gently. Streamlets of rainy water seeped between them, running down his chin. At first Sephiroth felt nothing, nothing but the chill of tasteless flesh, abusing his sharpened senses. He had a sudden desire to push his lover away, but then a scintilla of warmth sparked between them. He drew forward, catching these little hot flares with his mouth, clinging to his lover's lips as a moth to the light.

He felt them, hot, lithe, demanding…

Biter-sweet…

Something was waking in his numbness.

Pain.

Desire.

And so they kissed and kissed; ghosts in frequent flares of light, shadows in ensuing darkness, entwined as if unable to break free…

Darkness separates them as a thick veil, fingers barely touching, eyes closed until melodic question rings in utter silence.

"Do you believe in absolution, Sephiroth?"

And quietly, almost breathlessly.

"No. It is useless to hope that dead would forgive you. And unless you are willing to forgive yourself there is no such thing."


	10. Chapter 10

Disclaimer: I own nothing or no one. Why would I need to, anyways?

Pairings: Sephiroth/Genesis

A/N: still have to go back a bit. :)

And thanks to my readers… :) Writing in English is a relatively new experience to me, so… your opinions are always very much appreciated.

_**Chapter X.**_

_**Rhapsody.**_

_Three days after the battle by the nameless village…_

"Come, Sephiroth," Genesis addressed his lover's back. "Our time is almost over."

They stood by the serpentine river that lazily dragged its waters, disappearing in approaching darkness. Stones of the deserted quay faintly glistened from the rain that has just stopped. The blur of a small dock could still be seen in the distance, and welkin above was still wrapped in thick moire of gray clouds.

Cold wind strayed in semi-darkness, now playfully sliding over the waters' surface, now flinging cold droplets into their faces. Then silver flew around his lover's frame, loose tresses getting tangled. Genesis gently ran his hand along the scattered hair, smoothing it; fine as silk, he thought to himself, repeating the movement, since his lover obviously didn't mind.

Sephiroth stood with his back to the redhead, in a simple white shirt, chin slightly lifted, as if evincing unhidden defiance. His palm rested on the metal railing, fingers absently tapping on the bronze ornament. His lover's pose was indeed regal with a touch of thoughtfulness and sadness. And yet Genesis felt, almost _saw_ the burden that rested on his shoulders, as formless gray stone, bending him down to the ground.

Upon hearing his words Sephiroth slowly turned, leaning on the railing.

He was pale, so lifelessly pale.

"How much?" Redhead had to lip-read so faint his lover's voice was.

"Tomorrow, till noon, at best."

Sephiroth nodded, falling silent again. Another strong gust of wind rumpled his hair, and Genesis brushed the unruly golden lock that fell across his eyes.

"Do you feel any better?" Redhead broke that solemn still between them.

His angel shook his head.

"How is my state of any importance?"

Redhead sighed.

"How about – I am in love with you – for a start?" Azure eyes peered into emerald depths, and something softened there, waking as a rising winter sun.

"I know and I didn't mean it to sound that way." Sephiroth closed his eyes for an instant. "I… it is not my state you should be worried about. I… I shall be fine."

Then he suddenly shuddered, emerald eyes darkening from old pain and fear.

"I've seen a massacre at the village… in Wutai." Sephiroth began in a runabout way, his voice broken, quiet, "Women, children, slain and piled up as if… as if they were useless garbage. As if… they were mindless husks of Shin-Ra weapon. There was nothing human in it, Genesis. Just blind sickening faith, fanaticism."

"If it makes you feel better, I've seen ugliness myself." Genesis cast his eyes down, shifting from heal to toes. Uncomfortably.

Refined hand rose and fell, stopping half way as if his silver-haired lover forgot what that gesture was for.

"If it was someone from SOLDIER responsible for _that_, I would have ordered an execution. But then…" He uttered a harsh cold laugh, looking at his ungloved palms the same way he did at Nebelheim mako reactor. With disbelief, disgust almost, asking and asking poignant vain question. "What am I supposed to think, to believe now? That I… I should be put to death for my deeds?"

Darkness lapped against the cage of emerald eyes as sea against the rocks.

"It is different," redhead whispered, looking away again.

Sephiroth sighed, licking his suddenly dry lips.

"I don't know, Genesis. I simply don't… know."

Silence again. Sticky, almost palpable, impudently penetrating into ears; only small waves swished against wet stones, and if not for that faint sound Genesis would think the world around them died.

He let his palm touch his lover's face gently, lingering on the smooth cheek, fingers stroking it gently. Just a bit of warmth, timid and fickle, nothing more. Sephiroth looked at him, and emerald ice in angel's eyes melted again as he spoke.

"You were right. I shouldn't have fought this time. "

Despite having little desire to smile, his sensual lips twitched, forming into a shade of sincere expression.

They were capable of yielding a point… once in a while.

With that thought Genesis took his lover's fragile pale hand and guided him like a dog would guide its blind master. Sephiroth followed, obediently, silently and if it wasn't for the sensation of his long fingers curled in his palm, Genesis would think he simply disembodied. Thawed as first bashful snowflakes landing on warm gray pebbles.

...They stayed at the old house in the slums until time to flee again came. After that incident at the village hiding was the most viable alternative. Narrow streets were dirty, rats sprang from underneath their feet with unpleasant squeak, scattering along the wet sidewalks, hiding. They slipped through the darkness as shadows; neither of them spoke but Sephiroth's hand was still joined with his, warm even in the chill.

There was nothing remarkable about that house; perhaps it was the worst they've ever stayed at. But at least the place had a bathtub and clean bedroom. Genesis opened the door, and once they were both inside pushed his lover to the wall, impatiently wrapping hands around his neck. Sephiroth gave in as Genesis smothered his dry lips with fervent kisses, short but for all that insatiable. They parted, but without the usual eagerness, just by force of a habit, in studied gesture. And yet even this effortlessly turned him on; just unforgettable intoxicating bergamot mint taste was enough to ignite redhead's passion at once. Still clinging to his lover's lips, Genesis ran a hand along his chest, skilled fingers gently undoing little annoying buttons, when suddenly their kiss ended, and a quiet but firm voice rang in his ears.

"I am not in the mood," pushing him aside, even if gently, Sephiroth slipped in-between his body and the wall, disappearing in the bedroom. The door closed behind him with a thud.

A flash of silver in the corner of his eyes and emptiness in his hands.

Genesis leaned against the wall, slumping, his breath slightly ragged, and his blood on fire. His lover wasn't in the mood. Gaia, as if he was. He just wanted to forget about the whole mess, to fight this adhesive feeling of hopelessness, this overflowing stream of darkness. And instead Sephiroth wasn't in the _mood_.

Genesis' fists clenched as he let out a sigh, almost a moan.

How… how could he possibly choose to_ bathe_ in that wretched misery?

Biting his knuckles to suppress the growing desire, he pushed the wall aside and straightened. Lips curved in a false smirk. He had no one to mock besides himself.

Redhead frantically looked around the room, searching for at least _something_ to vent his ire on. An ancient worm-eaten table caught his eyes. In one swift movement his slender hand swept over the surface, throwing off all the books and papers together with two glasses. Water spilled onto the floor, onto the scattered pages that slipped from old tomes.

_How? Why?_

Genesis was truly at loss of words – or thoughts – which was a state he rarely found himself in.

He began pacing, aimlessly, from one wall to another; his seesaws resembled those of a wild cat trapped in the cage.

Sephiroth was definitely trying his patience. For a moment Genesis considered going out and finding himself a whore, but then thought it was low. Unworthy.

So instead he opened the window; cold wind rose, tousling white curtains, bearing the smell of the slums, neither fresh nor pleasant; but the chill always helped the redhead calm himself.

It helped this time as well.

Sighing, Genesis climbed onto the windowsill with usual grace and deftness, settling across the window opening, bending his legs to fit in and looked down. Narrow street with dirty puddles of water wasn't the sight he found inspiring, so his eyes closed. Suddenly Banora came to mind; with groves of arching apple trees, with verdant waist length grass, with rainbows as bridges across the eternal blueness, with sun kissed purple dumbapples. With memories of him and Angeal playing childish games, of him and Sephiroth lying under the crooked trunk of his prized tree, beautiful words ringing in the air, shared between them.

Everything used to be different back then; so very different. Simpler. He believed it would last forever. Bright azure eyes fluttered open, turned towards the starless sky.

"_Have you ever thought of what lies beyond?"_

"_You know very well, I have…"_

With a wan smile Genesis reached out for a book in burgundy cover, soft and velvety by touch when he fondly ran his hand along its surface. That was a book of his memories, one he dreamt to write a long time ago; opening it and taking a pencil stump he resumed imprinting his life into the virgin white pages…

So that everything burned to ash had a chance to rise…

… When Genesis eventually slid between the sheets, Sephiroth was asleep. In dim moon rays his pale face was colorless, silver flyaway tresses spread all over the sheets, shimmering as strands of pearls.

He looked tired, so very tired, albeit his features never got that virile, austere cast, always so delicate and when relaxed – almost childlike.

Genesis gathered his hair slowly, with timid tenderness, so unusual for him. It was the splendid color that first caught his eyes in dark dreary Shin-Ra halls, not the unusual length. It actually shone, its light as pure as hope.

Sephiroth used to bring people hope, courage to fight. Maybe, he missed it, and kept returning to his role as the General to fill that emptiness. Genesis could only guess…

Redhead flung silver hair across his lover's chest and leaned over to him, gently brushing thin lips with his own, so cold and unresponsive this time.

"Why," he softly whispered into those perfectly shaped slightly parted curves, "why are you so insufferably blind?"

_*flashback*_

In the end.

Data room seemed colder and more foreign than before. Bright light shone lifelessly, snatching endless rows of shelves and computers from under the cover of darkness; neon lamps winked from time to time, giving him headache.

He came here for one reason; the general wished to be left alone so he could drop the usual stone mask, to be able to feel how tired he really was, even if his state had nothing to do with the physical fatigue.

Sephiroth only let it show when there was none to witness his weakness; not even Zack was supposed to notice anything.

General sat at the table, head propped up with his hand, and two folders lay by his side. Emerald eyes shifted from one face to another, his look faraway, long fingers absently sliding along the picture of a young man with unruly auburn hair and amazingly bright azure eyes. They seemed so impossibly alive as if it wasn't a picture but a face; as though in a split second sensual lips would curve into a smile, greeting him.

"Genesis Rhapsodos," Sephiroth said quietly, shaking off that delusion, and then his gaze returned to another face, "Angeal Hewley."

His old friends and the only person he loved.

What was it all now?

Memories.

Sephiroth hid his face in his palms. The longing was still in his heart, cleansed from bitter resentment; emptiness and pain would linger.

He only lacked hope. This time there was none.

Death took them both from him.

Refined hand absently reached out for a stamp, firmly pressed it to Angeal's picture. A scarlet word appeared across his face with a faint clang. CLOSED. Sephiroth lifted the stamp again, but his hand stopped half way. Sighing, he dropped it, returning his eyes to dainty features, framed in fiery red hair, as if wanting to memorize this face and not the one he last saw before Genesis fell.

It wasn't that easy, to let go. It hurt, even if he contrived to persuade himself their relationship was a mistake.

It actually never was; Sephiroth ran from the truth. Why? He couldn't find the answer to that question; fears, offence, anger everything seemed so petty now.

At least, dying, his friend knew Sephiroth loved him.

Genesis Rhapsodos…

His best friend bore an eccentric last name. Rhapsodos. An echo, a repercussion of the similar word, rhapsody. And that single word described all of Genesis – dramatic, exalted when it came to words, gestures, and such, passionate in expressing his feelings. Never the one to subdue his thoughts or emotions, never the patient one and always audacious.

Rhapsody to its very core, and faithful to his last name even in death…

"_Pride is lost… wings stripped away… the end is… nigh…"_

That was how Sephiroth would remember him, as a rhapsody. Always.

"Farewell," he whispered ruefully and finally pressed the stamp, spilling red paint – as droplets of blood – across his love's face.

CLOSED.

As white-hot needles in his heart.

CLOSED.

The general said his last words.

Rising, he gently picked up those folders and carried them to the shelves they now belonged at, those marked as archive. At first he found letter "H" and neatly placed Angeal's file between the two with effaced pictures. Then Sephiroth walked down the isle, passing dozens of rows until he finally saw the green letter "R", engraved into metallic shelf.

So many dead, he thought, searching for the right spot, so many forgotten. General's gaze lingered on Genesis' face for another instant before his file in turn disappeared in the line of identical folders.

_Farewell, Genesis…_

General's head hung, waves of silver concealing his pale refined face.

There was some grave tinge to all of this – in death everyone finally became indistinguishable; there truly was no difference if that person was a third or a first class, a President or a lowly member of Shin-Ra army.

In the end all of the dead became equal; rows of gray folders or white tombstones. And living souls were left with memories, warm as rays of rising sun or cruel as a steel blade cutting through warm flesh…

Long lashes trembled, revealing sparks of emerald flames; long fingers brushed a single silver lock off the forehead, falling onto the white surface of the pillowcase, freezing. He wasn't sleeping for some time, thinking, remembering, and to no surprise visions that came back from his past were about death and loss. Happy memories never came at times like this…

Sephiroth stirred, trying to stretch, but then felt his lover's hand wrapped around his waist. So Genesis didn't leave; a ghostly shade of a grateful smile slipped onto his lips. Sephiroth groped for that elegant palm and gently covered it. He used to wonder how Genesis managed to become such a good SOLDIER being so slender; how he contrived to wield the blade with those narrow, almost feminine hands. But on the battlefield and on training grounds Sephiroth forgot about his amusement. Genesis was always a sound match to his… inhuman abilities.

Sephiroth's eyes closed once more, breathing becoming more and more shallow. But before the ex-general was overcome by dreamless slumber, last word flashed through his mind.

Rhapsody.

First thing Genesis felt when awoke out of sleep was warmth of Sephiroth's body, tightly pressed to his own. That happened rarely, since his lover got up a sound hour or so earlier; but that morning he was still asleep.

Yes, Genesis knew, those thoughts haunted him too often, but he couldn't help but notice that even in slumber Sephiroth's face was ravishing, every fine curve so deliciously relaxed.

Perhaps, only in such moments his lover was truly himself.

Genesis carefully climbed out of the bed, not wishing to wake him up; even someone as strong as Sephiroth needed rest once in a while. Kissing him gently on the cheek, the redhead wrapped a thin sheet around his waist and came to stand by the window, peering through the small opening in the curtains.

It was early, he could tell, although the sky was clouded over. Stooping frame of a beggar sat by the dirty brick wall of an old building. Nice place, Genesis thought with disgust. But he couldn't be picky; they were outcasts, unwelcome intruders, monsters to those who saw black wings, hideous ugly beings. How many curses followed them; how many stones were thrown in their direction?

Yes, they were used to bearing hardships, Sephiroth and him. It was a price for a _gift_ neither of them asked for. What was it? Destiny? Concurrence of fickle circumstances? Someone's mockery? Redhead never knew.

With that thought he stretched, every movement graceful and feline, and strode to the kitchen to make some breakfast. Some food was supposed to be left from dinner; Genesis ran his hand through auburn hair, putting it to rights. That meal was quite awful; they both were in dismal moods, barely talked.

… Setting the tray of food onto the nightstand Genesis climbed back into bed and woke his lover. Green eyes with silver sparks opened at once, riveting on him, recognition dawning in their enigmatic depths.

"Good morning."

Sometimes his lover sounded so official as if they didn't know each other for ages. He smirked a bit.

"I've made us food. Would you like some?"

A wan smile touched his thin lips.

"I would appreciate it."

Before Genesis picked up the tray he pulled his lover closer; Sephiroth didn't object, relaxing in his embrace, resting his silver head on redhead's shoulder.

They ate in silence, but this time it was a comfortable one; nothing of yesterday's chill remained. From time to time Genesis would pick a strawberry and put it in Sephiroth's mouth, feeling his tongue twine around his fingers.

Gaia, it was so good…

Sephiroth must have thought the same way for he suddenly raised himself and drew forward. Genesis closed his eyes, anticipating what was to come. And there it was, the gentle sensation of his tongue sliding along redhead's lips. They eagerly parted, obediently allowing his lover to continue his game, thin lips enveloping his slightly plump ones. Enveloping and withdrawing, again and again until Sephiroth deepened the kiss and silver tresses fell onto his forehead.

So persistent, so demanding. Always.

In moments like that Genesis was willing to forget about everything and… simply forgetting was enough…

The kiss ended, and both lovers resumed eating. After finishing breakfast neither of them was in the mood for conversation so the redhead started citing poems, one by one, reviving them in the memory. Melodic voice rang softly, changing and altering when needed. Genesis always felt as if he tasted those words like an exquisite delicate dish. Emotions they stirred in his heart were indescribable, images of distant places and landscapes showed through his inner darkness.

Sephiroth's eyes closed as he lay still, listening to Genesis' voice, obviously enjoying his little show.

He's been reading sixth one, when a certain piece came to his mind. Sephiroth could have known it as well; the redhead was not at fault. As he read last but one line

"And yet for storm it begs, the rebel…"

"As if in storm lurked calm and peace…" Sephiroth finished it for him, a bit quieter and less passionate, stirring and opening his eyes. Emerald depths brightened, so beautiful, so bewitching. "I suppose, it is about us in a way. Although I don't think our struggle can be called _romantic_ in any way."

Genesis shook his head.

"Any hopeless fight is romantic, whether you wish it or not." He loverly passed his hand over his angel's alluring silver hair. "You do realize, it is hopeless, don't you?"

"Hardly," he answered with restrained laugh.

There was something in his deep voice, something in expression of his finely wrought features that really bothered the redhead. Sephiroth couldn't be serious about fighting his nature, could he? But Genesis never had the chance to finish his thought or even comprehend it fully.

The front door was knocked out with a loud bang. Orders were shouted, in the language Genesis didn't deign to learn properly. The sound of hurried footsteps accrued.

Sephiroth strained himself at once, his movements fast as lightning, barely noticeable to untrained human eyes. In the matter of seconds he turned from a man to a SOLDIER, self-disciplined, ready to counter almost anything.

Deadly in his art.

The ex-general rose, Massamune appearing in his left hand at once. He stood, shielding Genesis, deflecting the first round of gunfire as people dashed for the bedroom door, appearing in the doorway.

They were quite unlucky; bullets swished in random direction, some hitting those who fired them. First bodies fell at once with holes in their skulls or other parts, blood sprinkled, painting the walls in blurry crimson patterns. Moans and more orders blended into cacophony.

Chaos.

Genesis hurled the tray aside, reaching out for the scarlet rapier. He was naked, and it was the only reason why he allowed Sephiroth to protect him.

In the mean time Sephiroth froze, hand slightly outstretched, the tip of his long blade drawn aside a bit, so that he wouldn't have to swing it with too much power.

Availing himself of their enemy's confusion and disorder, Genesis shouted.

"Step aside, Sephiroth!"

He didn't turn, intent gaze still fixed on the lines of intruders as he made a single step to the right, allowing Genesis a clear view of what was going on. Not wasting any more time, he released a fireball and then another one. It hit the door, bursting into myriads of white-hot sparks. They hungrily bit into the wood, tongues of flames licking the doorway, chocking grey smoke rising at once. Unwelcome intruders were forced to retreat.

"They shall be back before long," Sephiroth's voice was indifferent. He changed into his battle attire in no time. The redhead followed his example, quickly fastening black stripes and putting on pants and coat, then straightened.

"Then, maybe, we should punish them," he said with a devilish grin, running his fingers along his scarlet blade with fondness. It ignited under his touch.

His lover immediately frowned, pale face darkened.

"No, Genesis, I am done… punishing."

He sighed. To be honest he didn't care.

"Then flee?"

Sephiroth nodded, sheathing his blade.

Genesis swung his arm, throwing another fireball, upwards this time. It flew through the flimsy roof, making a huge hole; the wood caught fire at once.

Hasty steps were heard outside the door once again, together with a nervous loud voice. Neither of them wished to take note of his words.

Sephiroth turned around gracefully and yet reservedly.

"Genesis, your hand," his command was calm, unruffled. The redhead hated orders, but that was definitely not the time to choose or argue.

Their hands firmly joined, Sephiroth's black wing fluttered, and they abruptly soared upwards. Peaceful blueness of the sky spurted towards, and llittle house in the slums disappeared below, its roof riven as wound edges and bleeding with streamlets of smoldering flames.


	11. Chapter 11

Summary: A sequel to Silent Sacrifice S/G ending. Sephiroth and Genesis travel to distant places, meet their fates and fight for their humanity.

Disclaimer: I own nothing or no one. Why would I need to, anyways?

Pairings: Sephiroth/Genesis

A/N: ok, back to the main plot – so don't be surprise at the change of moods. Well, more of Seph as the general… Written in commemoration of 22nd of June.

Anyway here you go…

_**Chapter XI.**_

_**Long live the General!**_

"_Aut vincere aut mori!" (H. Mann)_

_("Vanquish or perish".) _

Genesis Rhapsodos was always reluctant to admit he feared something or someone.

He could acknowledge and accept fear of losing Sephiroth; it stared in his face, an obvious one. Strong feelings never came without fright to wake up one day to the truth of having his beloved or friend gone.

Genesis didn't fear death; after all he's been living with this burden for quite some time, and it didn't break him… much. The redhead thought he couldn't die beyond that.

But there were other fears.

After his rebirth, while living at Nebelheim mansion Genesis read more notes on Hollander's and Hojo's experiment, and there he found an unpleasant possibility. It was easy to overlook; after all when he found out about a remedy, his emotional state wasn't fit for rational thinking and calculating. But after he cured himself, Genesis had a lot of spare time to think.

It appeared that Sephiroth's cells were strong, and – just like his personality – easily dominated over weaker ones. There was a possibility Genesis could turn into Sephiroth's copy or marionette.

Days after days the redhead would wake up and frantically grope for the mirror to see if he had any silver streaks in his hair; hours after hours he would sit listening to his inner voice, trying to understand if any of his thoughts belonged to his beloved friend, if any of his actions were ordered or inspired by his silver-haired demon.

Genesis would hate Sephiroth if he ever tried to turn him into a puppet, his feeling not less powerful, but a lot more destructive than love.

Thank the Goddess his fears appeared to be vain.

Yet one dream still remained; a dream with the meaning redhead never knew…

…It was her again; with endless abyss of sky-blue eyes, clear as adamantine shards, with thin oval face, refined and flawless, looking so alike with the only one truly dear to him; with childishly plump lips. Her hair, strawy in color, reminded Genesis of endless fields near his house, of how he walked through rich waves of wheat, absently touching soft ears with his palm. It played as beads of morning dew in rays of rising sun.

She stood in the stream, greenish-blue protuberances dancing at her feet, gently entwining them, fawning on her. Light blue veil cloaked her, clinging to arching shoulder straps, quivering as butterfly wings.

His Goddess.

He found her, the essence of his dreams, the gem of his desires, and the light in his hatred seared heart.

To her he flew on wings of dawn.

To her splendour he lifted his hands, in awe of her holiness, approaching her regal frame with unusual timidity, a childlike smile on his lips.

To her mercy he brought his aching troubled heart; to her feet he laid his homeless, anchorless, unsupported mind.

Just once he was asking forgiveness for all he had done. Just once he offered himself like that, to every scintilla of his soul; shields fell and he was naked before her.

_Take me. Forgive me. Revive me. _

But his hopes were so worthlessly vain.

Slowly, as if ashamed of his presence, her eyes closed, face averted; and before Genesis could feel anything, he was falling through the Lifestream, velvet welkin spinning, bright starts blending into a maddening whirlpool, green light blinding him.

He was discarded, denied, spat at.

Monster.

Murderer.

Fallen.

That was how it all had happened; the dream started when Genesis felt something solid underneath his feet. It pushed him upwards, through the drowning whirl of Lifestream and he came to stand before her eyes again.

A human defying a Goddess.

Human. With so much pride, perhaps unavailing at her feet, but sheer beatitude to him.

Genesis Rhapsodos straightened and unsheathed his scarlet sword, made one step towards her. His heart was pounding loudly in his chest. No Goddess had a power to decide his fate; he didn't go through fire and water to be denied_ again_.

The Goddess was amused, condescending arrogance barely hidden in twitch of her lips, in arch of her eyebrows, in her relaxed pose.

What was a mortal in a shadow of a God? Mist, dispelled by a gust of wind. Dust of centuries, nature's mistake.

His answer was a sneer, ruthlessly twisting his mouth. His fingers ran along the scarlet blade, setting it aflame. His movements were swift and graceful as he lunged forward.

She was still amused, raising her golden shield, multicoloured sizzling hot sparks spraying from the impact; albeit all her amusement gone the instant Genesis' sword cleaved it in halves and plunged into her chest.

With a faint hissing the flames on his blade died out, and blood slowly began oozing from the wound. Scarlet blood. Human blood.

They were not so different after all.

She fell to her knees as Genesis withdrew his blade. Her eyes hazed over with pain, hands clutched at the wound. She wasn't amazed any longer, more like stunned, frozen… frightened.

How could it possibly happen; question was thrashing about the cage of her starlike eyes.

A goddess was kneeling before a man.

Genesis began laughing; laughing at the whole world, at the despicable being at his feet, his voice ringing as triumphant trumpets of the heavenly host.

She was silently pleading; he was laughing.

And then with a subtle movement of his slender hand Genesis gently pushed his Goddess' away, and her body sank into greenish-blue river of the Lifestream, its waters merging over her helpless face, quietly but surely…

Genesis woke up from the sensation of Sephiroth's lips hungrily sliding along his bare back. He stirred, shaking off unpleasant residue of a dream.

In it he always killed his Goddess. Why? What could it mean?

But the feeling of torrid lips on his skin didn't help his reflections. The redhead unsuccessfully tried to suppress quivers that shot through his body.

"It's early," he purred, azure eyes lazily opening.

Thin lips reached his ear, gently nipping at the earlobe.

"Do I hear a complaint?" his deep velvety voice always sent shivers down Genesis' spine. There was so much raw power in it, as in faint low rumble of distant thunder.

The redhead wanted to play with his lover. Wriggling out of strong arms, he rolled over to another side of the bed, covering himself with a thin sheet as a bashful virgin.

Will he chase after him? Hardly. Sephiroth's restraint was sounder than his own, and redhead always gave in easier, flaring up with rampant desire. Their tempers were so different after all, quite opposite actually.

"I am hungry, Sephy," he drawled, adding with a sly grin. "And it is your turn to cook."

Genesis was wrong. His lover drew forward, raising himself on his arms, throwing his silver head back just a bit.

"So after all we've been through we shall stoop to ague about who is making a meal?" Sephiroth couldn't hold back a smirk. "How petty." He leaned over, kissing Genesis hard, mumbling into his mouth. "How very petty."

Sephiroth's slightly ragged breath was on his lips and he smiled into those thin curves.

"In hindsight, perhaps," Genesis murmured with a touch of mockery.

Emeralds sparked with that indescribably derisive glint, silver scintilla just adding an unforgettable tinge to his eyes. There were short moments – like this one – when Genesis thought all his life was there, in his angel's eyes.

Sephiroth moved away, and he regretted about reminding his lover about cooking.

"I'll make us something," gracefully stretching himself, his angel strolled to the kitchen, waves of silver washing over his back and shoulders.

Naked.

Yes, Genesis already regretted about everything; he wasn't in the mood to eat.

Rolling over to Sephiroth's side, redhead picked up his robe and threw over his shoulders. It smelled of his lover, his sharpened senses drowning in that scent.

Then he came to stand by the window, opened the curtains in one swift movement, and bright rays immediately flooded the room. Light speckles of dust whirled in the torrent of sunshine.

Genesis smiled and went to the bathroom.

… When he entered the kitchen, Sephiroth – dressed this time – stood by the stove with a frying pan in his hands. He was cooking eggs and salad. How very_ inventive_, redhead couldn't hold back a mocking thought.

Genesis leaned against the doorway, folding his arms. Usual smirk was roving on his lips; he couldn't hide it when seeing his lover cooking. While it hasn't been the first or the last time, his imagination always came up with vivid and odd analogies.

Angel in the apron was among the mildest.

And sure enough his lover felt his stare even without turning.

"Why are you smirking?"

"Oh, just watching you," Genesis waved aside.

"I felt that," Sephiroth chuckled, breaking eggs, his every movement so precise, almost calculated to Genesis' eyes. "I don't understand why you are so amused every time you see me cook."

Playful azure flames sparked between Genesis' half-closed eyelids.

"Let's just say, I have my own reasons."

Sephiroth hemmed.

"Any SOLDIER has to sustain his needs on the battlefield. You should know that." He turned, edges of his thin lips curling just a bit. "Believe it or not but cooking was the fourth skill I learned, after reading, speaking and battling."

Genesis pushed off the wall, moved closer.

"I still bet you don't know how to cook anything besides the simplest of dishes. After all SOLDIER isn't supposed to sustain his needs with delicacies."

Sephiroth shrugged, slightly amused.

"I don't see a problem there."

"Sephy, Sephy, you are awfully boring at times. Variety brightens up our cheerless existence. You wouldn't deny that."

Sephiroth brushed a silver lock off his forehead with the back of his palm and adroitly flipped the eggs over.

"Never thought food stirred that much delight in you."

Genesis came to stand behind him, gently gathering his lover's hair and honeyed into his ear.

"Well, you have to know the difference between art, subtle matter of poetry and more mundane things like food and…"

His fingers slid underneath his lover's shirt and traced a line across his muscular abdomen, gently circling the shallow deepening, feeling every curve strain underneath his touch.

"Don't distract me, Genesis, or I'll burn your eggs." His silver-haired lover warned with a gentle hint of mock.

The redhead chuckled, stepping away.

"Ah, we don't want that."

He sat down and stretched his legs out, placing them onto the small stool. In the mean time Sephiroth finished dishing out their frugal breakfast and placed a plate in front of him.

Genesis enjoyed watching every polished gesture of Sephiroth's hands, his gait light and graceful as he circled the table.

"You know, any place would be delighted to have a waiter like you."

His lover wore a slightly amused expression as he took a seat by his side.

"Same could be said about you, Genesis. Only my self-love would never allow it."

"Pride?"

"Pride." He agreed easily. "Pride could destroy a nation after all."

Genesis shrugged the thought aside. He wasn't in the mood for any high-flown discussions today.

"I am going to the library tomorrow," he said picking up a fork.

"I am going with you," Sephiroth took a small bite of his eggs and swallowed before continuing. "Only why wait until tomorrow?"

"Today is Sunday, Sephy. Which reminds me… what are we doing this time?"

Sephiroth looked away for a moment, thinking.

"How about a spar?"

Redhead's eyes lit up.

"Any time."

Genesis finished his meal fast. His lover ate slower, thinking of something; so waiting for him the redhead retrieved his book of memoirs and resumed writing. He couldn't bring himself to keep his notes in chronological order, and sometimes it was so frustrating.

He reread the paragraph he's been recently working on. It was about how he and Sephiroth first met; not a memorable event in any way, but he had to record it. Genesis frowned. He couldn't quite remember how it all had happened; after all, it's been a while. He looked at Sephiroth over the pages of his burgundy memory book, shot a short glance, but then couldn't take his eyes off his lover's face, all thoughts suddenly secondary to his contemplation. Sunlight spots danced on his flawless marble skin, his expression so placid and distant. The redhead let his eyes feast upon that sight, and then softly whispered.

"Sephiroth…"

His lover gazed at him, and Genesis couldn't suppress a gasp. Emeralds of his eyes played as gem's faces in sunlight, lively sparks lightening their depths. Sheer beauty. It happened so rarely, each moment so precious, so memorable. Then anguish suddenly oppressed his heart, as if it was the last time he's seen Sephiroth like that.

"Yes?" His flawless lips folded into a wan smile.

Quiet question made him come back to earth. Genesis blinked and cleared his throat.

"Um…" looking down at the page he caught a sentence that has been crossed out twice. "Do you remember when we first met? "

"How could I forget?" Sephiroth was definitely teasing him.

"I asked your name, but then what? Can't remember much."

His lover chuckled, moving his empty plate aside.

"I answered, but had a desire to walk away. I expected nothing of that chance encounter. To be honest, I didn't want anyone in my life, being used to my solitude. You asked about my… wellbeing. I wasn't frienly." He shrugged. "That was our first conversation."

Genesis ran his hand through auburn hair.

"And I remember being so frustrated. But your behavior was different from anyone else I've met before, and it intrigued me."

"I know that, only couldn't say the same about myself. Socializing wasn't my strength. I hardly knew how to behave with people. I rarely felt any need to be around people in the first place."

Genesis sighed.

Fate has been cruel to Sephiroth, but if not for it he would have never become that strong; hardships forged him as a steel blade.

Leaders were rarely born any other way.

He was about to return to his works when burgundy book slipped out of his fingers, white pages covered with his choppy writing replaced by his lover's face, a smile playing across thin lips.

"While I am sure your works in literature are of immense aesthetical value, I have to interrupt you this time." Emerald eyes stared directly into his cerulean depths, unnerving, irresistibly beautiful… And then his slightly mocking voice ruined that lovely phantom. "It's your turn to wash the dishes… _darling_…"

Genesis knew he looked like a boy deprived of his favorite cookie jar.

Massamune rose to his forehead. Sephiroth's right palm circled the blade closer to its middle, holding in place. Genesis' pose was relaxed, tip of his scarlet rapier set against his thing-high boot, chin slightly lifted.

"Shall we?" Redhead's melodic voice rang in utter silence.

Both lovers waited until the sunset, finding a deserted park for their spar. No one was watching them.

Sephiroth smirked. It reminded him of all those spars during their Shin-Ra days. Genesis always wanted to gain a victory over him; he never particularly cared about his friend's desire to triumph. If Genesis had the strength, he'd take general's place; if not then fate decreed otherwise.

They rushed forward, eager to meet in the middle of sand covered arena. Neither of them cared about its original purpose.

Feet and bodies moved, blades clashed, spraying waterfalls of sparks. Grains of sand flew asunder as a shallow deepening appeared on the ground.

With his skill Sephiroth rarely watched his rival's movements; often the ex-general would just look into his eyes, and there he'd see every weakness he needed.

Fear. Uncertainty. Anger.

Any emotion was a weakness in a fight, making his enemies lose concentration. Even if their attention diverted only for a moment, it was enough for the general to deliver a deadly blow.

Thus Sephiroth was always cold as an ice shard when he fought.

Drowning in glowing sky-blue eyes Sephiroth saw nothing; Genesis was indeed his equal, especially since the redhead injected himself with his cells. A smug smirk was on Genesis' sensual lips; Sephiroth returned the favor.

The speed of their impact carried them out in separate directions; swiftly turning, Sephiroth parried Genesis' thrust, took a step to the right. Genesis retreated, swinging his rapier. In a whirl of red and silver their blades met, grinding; Genesis managed to catch him a bit off guard, pushed back and freeing scarlet rapier touched his bare shoulder with its blade. A thin cut appeared on his pale skin, and immediately his redheaded lover flashed a triumphant smile at him.

Sephiroth hemmed, raising Massamune and lunging; he was determined to leave a scratch on Genesis as well.

… After almost an hour of sparring they were turned on and breathing faster than usually. Genesis had a long cut on his forearm by now so it could be called a draw.

Saluting each other in a rather formal way, they lowered the blades and quickly approached each other. Azure eyes were ablaze with passion as Genesis neared him, almost unable to tear his gaze off him.

"We should get back," he whispered hoarsely into Sephiroth's lips, their hot breaths mingling. "Or I don't guarantee I'll control myself."

His long fingers brushed Sephiroth's shoulder, thin line of blood appearing on them; Genesis hungrily licked if off.

"Sweet," he murmured, countering his lips. "As sugar."

Sephiroth gasped at the sight, barely holding out from taking those fingers into his mouth.

They were in the park after all.

"All right." He breathed out. "But we'll come back… tomorrow for another round. I am not yet done with you."

Arch smile literally slithered into Genesis' lips.

"We should make a habit of it."

Genesis impatiently kicked the door to their room with his right leg, not wanting to break their ardent embrace, not wanting to let go of those thin lips, pressed into his. Their heated bodies melded, lovers stepped over the threshold, and Sephiroth absently reached out to close the door.

Breathing huskily, the redhead reached underneath his lover's shirt, taking it off over his head, impatiently, unconcerned if any of his precious silver tresses got tangled. Belt and black pants followed, easily undone with his skilled fingers. Genesis slipped down, hugging his lover's things, kneeling before him, aroused, gripped by emotions, unable to stop even if the world began tumbling down around him.

_Sephiroth… _

After the spar Genesis was in a possessive mood; he wanted to leave a distinctive mark on his lover's alabaster neck, and yet redhead knew that Sephiroth would never let him. His angel was overly dramatic when it came to personal freedom. So instead Genesis bit pale skin of his lover's thigh, forgetting about being gentle. Sharp moan was followed by the sensation of long fingers sinking into his auburn hear. His lips moved over Sephiroth's smooth velvety skin, tasting ever inch with his tongue, his mind in fog, only one coherent thought dominating, swallowing everything else.

More.

His teeth sank into warm flesh, hands gripping his lover's hips even tighter, until Sephiroth suddenly lifted him, with a jerk. Eyes met, glowing, flashing predatory, nothing human remaining in their depths. Lips leeched onto each other, tongues entwining with hunger, glutting with each others ardor, slaking their burning thirst. Strong arms tore his clothes off and they collapsed on the bed, completely naked, desire flaring up with renewed strength. Genesis immediately took his lover's refined hand and urged down, arching and moaning at the sensation of cool nimble fingers touching his heated flesh. Knees were wrapped around his hips with force, Genesis' arms clung onto his lover's neck, closing down tightly, legs parted as Sephiroth continued stroking him slowly, patently, almost driving insane, pushing to the brink, to the chasm filled with liquid flames.

"Sephiroth…" Genesis moaned, earning a light smirk and hungry searing gaze of emerald eyes. Spasms clenched his muscles, extruding another groan from his kiss bruised lips, neck arching into the pillow from whirling delight. "Sephiroth…"

Sephiroth… drowning in zealous masterful kisses, swollen lips aching from his lover's bites, the pain so sweet, so delicious…

Sephiroth… Genesis' hands roving about his lover's slender body, finding his every weakness with urgency, making him moan, again and again, subduing his icy coldness and submitting in turn…

Sephiroth… the quintessence of celestial bliss…

There was nothing human in Sephiroth's vehement, almost ruthless motions.

Only fallen angels could love as he did...

Sephiroth raised himself on the elbow and looked at his sleeping lover with a soft smile. Such delicious sight… long fingers absently slid along Genesis' porcelain cheek. He didn't want to rest even after such passionate outburst; just another sleepless night awaited him, with more memories. Sephiroth was used to thinking in solitude; after his friends' treason he didn't wish anyone in his life. After all, solitude was better than hypocrisy.

The ex-general rose and went to the balcony. Slipping through half-opened doors he came to stand by the railing, leaning onto them. Silver cascaded over his face, faintly glistening in moon rays. In his childhood years he loved every sign of his uniqueness; Sephiroth couldn't say he didn't right now.

His long fingers absently twirled shorter strands that framed his face as memories began to flood his mind, his look faraway.

There was a song Sephiroth remembered from his Wutai years; SOLDIERs would usually sing it in the evenings, when they gathered by the fire, relaxing after a long day and tiresome duties.

The ex-general closed his eyes, remembering a simple tune:

_Endless waters neither freeze,_

_Nor the sun rays fervor lack,_

_But the general comes back_

_With his soldier to decease… **_

He heard it several times going by the tents during his evening inspections. It was unpretentious, but sincere; perhaps in simplicity only hid genuine candor. But in his life the general made only one mistake of this kind, on his first mission. After that it always happened the other way around. For the first time it occurred during the second day of the…

_*flashback*_

Siege of Auron.

"General, Sir," messenger straightened, saluting, "authorized representative of the President has arrived."

Sephiroth nodded, barely looking at the nervous panting Third class. President and his whims, he thought with dissatisfaction.

His gaze fell onto the map, slid along the city wall. He pictured the battlefield in his mind, remembering the exact position of each unit. Fingers absently tapped on the table.

He had no time for representatives.

"Send the forth Unit to the gate," the General looked up at unremarkable spot just above messenger's head, "and bring in the representative."

"Yes, General!"

Sephiroth rose, pushing the chair away. He had a long day and a sleepless night. The battle was so tense this time that it required every bit of his attention. There wasn't anything worse fate could store for him than a representative.

The coverlet shielding the tent opening was ripped aside, and a man in a dark-blue suit came in.

"Good day, General," the politician greeted him.

Sephiroth nodded. He's seen this man before, on couple of meeting with the President. Short, stout, with unremarkable face of someone who was used to bow and scrape before the higher ranking members and abase the subordinates.

The General kept his voice and face dispassionate.

"I am in the middle of an important operation." He could only hope that hinting as much would be enough for the representative to get to the point without the usual idle talk.

"That is precisely what I am here for. The President is dissatisfied with your results, General." His glossy face got that look of self-importance, as if he was deciding a fate of the whole nation. "He needs more, faster, and to hell with the price. We are both adults, and understand that army was and would be nothing but a mean to achieve goals."

Sephiroth barely refrained from a sharp retort. They were his _superiors_ after all.

"I don't understand foibles of my strategy." His voice icy, the General turned away to watch another spot on the khaki green tent wall. Representative shifted, obviously feeling uncomfortable.

Sephritoh allowed himself to smirk, edges of his thin lips rising just a bit. He knew he would not be seen.

"President's orders," and yet politician's voice was smug. "The city has to fall by midnight. I am here to personally oversee how the operation goes."

Sephiroth's face was a stone mask, although it was hard to hide his disgust. What could he know of war? If President's representatives were forced to fight in the front lines, they'd wet their pants. Nothing of this glossy arrogance would remain, just morbid insurmountable fear.

Cowards, hypocrites.

"General?" The representative reminded of his existence.

Sephiroth turned, emerald eyes colder than a windless sea under the moon of midnight.

"Then you may bring a complaint about my _incompetence_; but unless I am relieved of this post, the siege is going to continue as I see fit."

At that moment he didn't care; if this representative brought a resignation, the general would have signed it after the battle. He could sacrifice soldiers on the field when absolutely necessary, but he would never do it for politics.

Sephiroth put his gloves on, took Massamune from the stand and was about to strap it to his back, when another SOLDIER burst into the tent. His face was dirty and scratched from debris.

He brought news straight from the battlefield.

"General, Sir, the weapons are positioned in front of the gate and ready to fire. Shall we execute the attack?"

They exchanged glances, and the representative lowered his gaze first.

"Proceed," the General ordered curtly and watched his messenger disappear.

"My apologies," he then spoke to the politician. "My presence is required elsewhere."

And without waiting for his response, the General exited the tent, knowing that President's representative would not dare follow him to the front lines.

Whatever the repercussions were, Sephiroth was not going make his soldiers die for them.

…Defenders of Auron were the best in Wutai, and besides they had strong walls to their avail. Even with Angeal and Genesis on the battlefield, their first attack failed so frenzied enemy's resistance was. Wutaians fought unsparingly. "Vanquish or perish" was their battle motto; and blind devotion to those military traditions ruined them in the end.

On the other hand Sephiroth was careful about his forces, holding the opinion that every soldier's life was extremely important. He saw no shame in retreating, and with such strategy the general lost battles but never lost a war.

Yesterday Shin-Ra army had to retreat, but it was only a matter of time now until Auron would fall, thought Sephiroth, passing by dead bodies, lifeless steel husks, scattered body parts and trenches turned upside down from shell impacts.

They were doomed on the day he arrived. That thought was unbearably bitter; it took his presence only, and everything was doomed.

Thunder roar of Shin-Ra weapons filled his ears; Sephiroth involuntarily winced. To his keen hearing those sounds were a torture. So he waited not far away from the line of steel monsters until he heard triumphant shouts:

"The gate has been breached!"

Climbing on top of a destroyed weapon the General looked towards the city. It was cloaked in black smoke, flames rising here and there. It stood as a fragment of something splendid, breaking and yet struggling even if the fight was hopeless. There was a hole in the gate, more defenders gathering behind. The battle was far from over.

Sephiroth gracefully leapt off the steel mass and approached his SOLDIER. Sometimes generals had to fight side by side with their people otherwise they'd become politicians. They cheered him as he curtly gestured to the gate.

… There they ran into enemies. Wutai had smart commanders; they understood if Shin-Ra troops could be stopped by the gate, it would give them time to mend the hole and recover. Whole unit met the general and his SOLDIERs. Sephiroth ordered to encircle and destroy the enemy, and then battle overtook him.

Three Wutaians attacked him, Massamune violently blazed in crimson glow of distant fires, falling askance, tearing through bones and flesh. Two were down at once, the third one managed to dodge. Sephiroth turned around, his blade singing its ruthless song before sinking into warrior's neck and cutting his head off. Fountain of blood gushed from the wound as the body collapsed, broken toy at his feet.

Sephiroth looked around. It appeared his SOLDIER made short work of their opponents almost without any loss. Wutai troops wavered, retreating behind the first line of barricades. The General shook blood from the blade of Massamune. He had to wait until he knew what was going on in other parts of the city; and if answering his silent question another messenger ran up to him.

"Commander Rhapsodos has penetrated city's defenses with his unit."

Sephiroth nodded. Now, where was Angeal?

"Dismissed." He said curtly, turning around, thinking, calculating.

Auron would not fall by midnight, no matter what the President's and his representative's whims were. Wutaians would fight for every barricade, for every narrow street. The city would be drowned in blood before he could claim his victory.

Sephiroth ordered an advance and then…

The silver-haired general never comprehended what had happened; he heard a whiz, and then felt a heavy body fall on his back. Due to his lightning reflexes the general was able to turn around in time to catch a young SOLDIER before he collapsed on the ground.

He was wheezing and choking with dark blood, wet stain spreading on his chest, face distorted with pain.

It appeared a young Third class covered him, catching a bullet that was aimed at the general.

Sephiroth lowered his body to the ground at once, ducked down behind the wall, kneeling by SOLDIER's side and tearing his uniform in one swift movement. His chest was covered in sticky carmine liquid; Sephiroth pressed his palm to it, feeling warm streamlets tickle his fingers.

Too late; he was dying, paling, bright grey eyes dimming with death haze. The bullet must have hit something vital.

Before last breath left youth's lips, he struggled to speak, fighting death agony, fingers clutching at his leather coat.

"Long live the General!"

Fervent faltering whisper.

Then his body went still and limp in general's arms.

This SOLDIER was very young; Sephiroth would not give him more than seventeen. He gently closed lifeless void eyes and straightened.

Sephiroth hasn't this seen dark-haired youth before; or has, but never noticed, how he looked at him with awe, perhaps waiting in the shadows near his tent just to catch a glimpse of the great General, not daring to speak, not daring to breath.

Waiting to give up his life so that Sephiroth's star would shine just a little brighter.

Hungry carmine star, feeding on death.

This Third class was nobody; just another pawn, crushed by the heavy chariot of war. The general would not remember him; he's seen too many dead. But something still lingered in his soul.

Not a name. Not a face. Not a person.

A scarlet imprint of a palm just above the heart and fervent whisper in his ears:

"_Long live the general!"_


	12. Chapter 12

Summary: A sequel to Silent Sacrifice S/G ending. Sephiroth and Genesis travel to distant places, meet their fates and fight for their humanity.

Disclaimer: I own nothing or no one. Why would I need to, anyways?

Pairings: Sephiroth/Genesis

A/N: more of Seph/Gen reflections on life, short one this time :) I've just bought a book, I've been waiting for almost a year. :)

_**Chapter XII.**_

_**Two as one.**_

Sephiroth pushed the railing aside and straightened. The night was clear and starlit, the chill of approaching dawn caressing his face. He looked up, at the upturned chalice of nocturnal welkin; it used to give him an illusion of freedom, when he was out of Midgar either on short missions, or during his war in Wutai.

Sephiroth shook his head, and slipped back through the balcony doors.

The night was almost over, and the ex-general suddenly felt a desire to rest, even if for just an hour or two.

Gingerly nestling up to his lover's body, Sephiroth wrapped his arm around Genesis' bare shoulders. The smile on thin lips was sad, his thoughts still on his past.

No one – not even Genesis – knew that a part of him permanently died when General Sephiroth triumphed over a person with the same name for the first time.

Only… only he was too young to die then.

Genesis loved scarlet, the color of passion, the color of blood, of flames. It symbolized a lot to him. His whole life was scarlet in color, patterned with raw emotions, crowned with fires of madness, lavishly drowned in blood. The redhead offered himself unsparingly to the world around him, always asking as much in return.

Asking everything, never bothering to ponder that everything was too much.

Genesis opened a small fancy box and looked at the long earring covered in red tissue paper. It resembled his silver one, only had a tear-shaped ruby at the end, bright as clear carmine droplet of blood.

It was Sephiroth's gift, the first and the last one Genesis has ever received. His lover wasn't a man of fine words or grand gestures, and they, or lack thereof, let the redhead welcome each single detail with particular gratitude.

He simply knew they were sincere, unique just as his angel.

Long fingers gingerly picked it up and replaced the silver one in his ear, bright azure eyes sweeping the small bathroom before focusing on his reflection. Perfect. The gem played vivid colors in wan light of a frosted bulb, and yet that deep almost threatening crimson fascinated Genesis the most.

Then the redhead reached for the silken scarlet shirt, threw over his shoulders and fondly buttoned it to the last but one. Yes, he always looked stunning in scarlet, only one thing sometimes frustrated Genesis. Sephiroth rarely noticed.

Tucking the shirt into his black leather pants, the redhead clasped the belt and straightened. The ruby in his earring flashed as Genesis threw his head back, admiring himself again through half-closed sky-blue eyes. He smiled.

Scarlet.

After all, fallen angels should burn.

When he gracefully slipped through the bathroom door Sephiroth was already dressed and waiting for him. His silver-haired lover sat in an armchair with his long legs tucked up beneath him. Silver eyebrows knitted when emerald eyes caught sight of him.

"You spend too much time in the bathroom, Genesis," the redhead caught dissatisfied notes in his deep voice.

Certainly, how very like Sephiroth. He would not notice how the redhead looked, but when it came to time and schedule he became as captious as one could only be.

And yet that day was a day for surprises. Sephiroth actually _noticed_.

He slipped out of the armchair, came to stand by his side and whispered into redhead's ear.

"And so that you know, I do like your shirt."

Genesis looked slightly amused. Catching his lover's refined palm, the redhead placed it on his waist, pulling Sephiroth's body up to his own to tear away a sultry kiss from those thin lips. He didn't know why Sephiroth had so much power over him, but each time he perceived that moist warmth of flawless curves, that gentle yet heated touch of his tongue, his depths were waking, reaching for his lover's offering as a flower would turn towards the sun.

Those almost void depths, forever seared with hatred he once felt, opened up to his angel. Such passions always left an indelible stain in someone's soul, embittering it.

Genesis moved away to gaze at his lover. Sephiroth always looked gorgeous in black, alabaster skin set off and the beauty of blazing silver-green eyes accentuated, reminding him of aurora borealis reflected on the stormy sea wave; scarlet and black, flames and night.

Was their fall endless?

…In the city with the name of Gwea libraries were huge, each of the three located in an old fashioned building with chimeras and other mythical beings twining around the twin columns that supported the dome-like roof. It reminded Genesis of temples they've seen in other places where people would sacrifice something to their gods. Strange customs, the redhead had to admit to himself. Gaia never required any oblations.

If appeared knowledge was an important part of this city's life. One could use and get it for free any time.

"Beautiful building, isn't it?" he asked as they ascended the marble stairs. Not to attract too much attention Genesis allowed his forefinger to wind around Sephiroth's.

His lover hemmed, returning the gesture.

"Beautiful," it was spoken quite dispassionately, but the redhead was used to that strangle, sometimes even stunning contrast between his lover's voice and the meaning of his words.

Genesis stopped by one of the columns, traced a line over one of the ugly beasts' mouth with his fingers.

"Interesting symbolism," he thoughtfully pondered.

"Do you mean knowledge embodied in such… unpleasant shape?"

Their eyes met.

"My words exactly."

They moved on, opening the heavy black door to the fortress of knowledge; at least this analogy was on tip of redhead's tongue.

Sephiroth smirked, giving it a quick once-over.

"This door is designed in such a way that it would hold against a battering ram, should someone think of breaking though."

Genesis shrugged, absently setting the collar of his scarlet shirt straight. His eyes focused on more aesthetical parts of the door, like an exquisite pattern, which covered the smooth black surface as thin cobweb.

Red runner stretched from underneath their feet, both walls on either side were decorated with paintings. Insides of the building conformed to the outsides.

To their right the redhead saw a stand, and immediately headed towards it. Sephiroth followed aloof.

"History," Genesis quietly read, finding the corresponding word in the list of sections. "Hall C."

Sephiroth came to stand behind him, and immediately he could feel his lover's warmth.

"Is this where you would like to head first?"

An arch smile curved his slightly plump lips.

"Unless… you have other _suggestions_."

A light chuckle rang behind his back, followed by faint mocking whisper.

"You _are_ predictable, Genesis."

…The spacious room at the end of hall C, labelled as "Modern history", was quite empty to cap their joy. Two men were sitting by the opposite wall, engrossed in their studies; neither of them noticed their intrusion. The redhead flashed a trademark grin at the lady on duty, and chose a place for their leisure as far from her as possible.

On his way the redhead picked some books at random and made himself comfortable in the deep dark-green chair by the old-fashioned wooden table. Sephiroth followed his example, taking a seat by his side.

And so they began reading. Genesis was looking for peculiar stories, individuals and such to complete his impression on the world they fetched up at. After all, they were given a unique opportunity to find out what actually _lay beyond_ their small planet, learning that its history, its tragedy was as a droplet of salty water in the ocean of the unknown. The picture that formed in Genesis' mind was… grand.

For a couple of hours they searched in silence. From time to time Genesis or Sephiroth would get up to get a new book; dozens of wars, treasons, forlorn or crushed hopes together with rising faith and dreams opened before them as petals of the world as if it were a tender flower. And it would appear before them in its unimaginable cruelty, unmatched uniqueness and irrefutable beauty.

Suddenly Sephiroth's deep voice rang in silence. It appeared he began reading a passage from a book he held in his hands.

"…Hearts of men were heavy, anxious; we went through six years of exile, and yet the future was still vague." His lover spoke quietly, each word pronounced with bitterness. "We sacrificed so much for the happiness of our motherland; personal happiness, family, health, blood and life itself. The present seemed black as hades; it pained me to understand that all the struggle of past years could be vain. And yet we had to be strong, keep our presence of mind and courage in fellow soldiers…"

He fell silent, and Genesis gingerly asked.

"What is it, Sephiroth?"

Sephiroth rested his gaze upon him, emerald eyes hazed over with thought. Thin lips folded into a bitter smile.

"I never had it, faith I mean. I knew my work had to be done; I even came around to enjoy it at times. But…" he paused, shaking his head, "it was a matter of victory, a matter of change rather than firm belief I was doing the right thing. I was not naïve to believe Shin-Ra wished to make our lives better. And that fervent conviction… never felt it. Never." The ex-general put the book aside, sighing. "Only Angeal had that kind of faith. He was lucky."

Genesis cast his eyes down.

"Angeal died for it."

"Yet he lived his life as he wished and died as chose." Sephiroth leaned back in his chair, that bitter smile not leaving his lips. "I can't say the same of us."

"Who promised us anything?"

His lover waved aside.

"You are thinking one thing and I another. We sacrificed as much for the cause neither of us believed in, for the motherland that discarded us."

Genesis pulled a face, but said nothing. His angel was right, and the redhead felt no guilt, no regret for wreaking havoc in Midgar. They deserved it, to the very last burned corpse and broken life.

He didn't understand why Sephiroth thought the other way.

Looking intently at his thoughtful lover, he shook his head.

"I am tired, let's go home," Genesis rose, unnoticeably stretching himself. "We'll come back tomorrow."

Sephiroth nodded, grabbing a book he wanted to take with him.

Only Genesis didn't know they'd never return to this place; this was their last peaceful day.

People were not supposed to know about their future, and in it lay an unquestionable wisdom…

Wan candle flames flickered in gentle evening breeze; the light they gave was enough to discern the details, at the same time drowning the room in the faint reddish glow, cozy with a touch of mystery. Remains of their dinner were still on the table.

Genesis reclined on the couch, half-naked, almost all buttons of his scarlet silken shirt undone; his very pose radiated sweet languor, graceful and feline. Murrey sparks danced in lively cerulean depths, as the last stroke of a paint brush concluding his image.

Rhapsody.

Sephiroth put the book aside and glanced at his lover. He wore that somewhat lazy expression, fingers slowly turning over the pages of a thick tome, his eyes almost absently sliding along the lines. From time to time he would pick up a pencil and scribe something in his burgundy book.

"What are you doing?" Sephiroth asked, shifting so that he could get a better view of the redhead.

"Looking for stories and mysteries hidden therein."

"Found anything interesting?"

"Oh, thereby hangs a tale," the redhead mumbled a bit dramatically, diligently tracing out each letter.

Sephiroth smirked. Suddenly all desire to talk gave way to sit in utter silence, and simply revel in rolling waves of pleasant emotions.

It felt like freedom to him, freedom from his past, his crimes, his conscience, even if it was short and fickle.

Sephiroth rose to his feet and came to stand by the opened window. Gwea was sprawled below, blazing with multicoloured twinkles, shadow of a casual lone passerby sliding along the street flooded with light of street lamps.

The ex-general suddenly remembered how he stood by the window in the captured command post in Auron so many years ago it sometimes felt as a dream by now; only he never dreamt like all others did.

Sephiroth folded his arms. The city looked too peaceful to be Auron, no smoky pillars marred the beauty of starlit sky, glows of fires replaced by placid glimmer of neon light. Only his pose reminded him of that night, his thoughtful gaze fixed on something in the distance.

Genesis came to stand by his side, light as a shadow, warm as crackling embers.

"Looks like Auron to me," the redhead spoke. "On the night it fell."

Did his lover read his thoughts?

Sephiroth nodded, as Genesis continued.

"I remember we stood just like that, and the city below was burning, lazily, shedding thick black smoke as if it were tears. I had blood on my palms, my memory torn with images of recent carnage in the narrow streets." Azure eyes met his. "I remember wanting to kiss you, badly; but pride never let me go back on my word."

Sephiroth smiled.

"You would be surprised, but I wanted your kiss perhaps as badly as you did; it was one of those rare moments I let myself dwell on that night."

Genesis' eyebrows arched with genuine amusement.

"Then why didn't you say so?"

He shook his head. Genesis would never understand; one has to grow in isolation to feel the same way he felt.

"I… didn't know how to express my feelings," he tried to explain as best as he could. "I thought it was… inappropriate."

The redhead laughed, his melodic voice so joyous.

"Inappropriate? This is so adorable, Sephy…"

Sephiroth couldn't hide another smile, which gently touched the edges of thin lips. The ex-general hung his head, but then felt his lover's fingers lifting his chin.

"Why don't we amend the miscue?" Genesis passionately breathed out, azure eyes caressing him. "You wouldn't think it to be inappropriate this time… would you?"

Last words were added with a playful smirk.

"No," Sephiroth watched his lover as he adroitly climbed onto the windowsill, tightly wrapping his slender legs around his waist. Feminine palms settled on his shoulders.

Sephiroth drew forward, resting his head on Genesis' bare chest. Nimble fingers ran through his silver hair, and then all of a sudden his lover jumped up, standing upright in the window opening.

Cerulean depths were on fire as his lover offered him a hand. Sephiroth took it, joining him.

Genesis turned his dreamy face , graced with a heavenly smile, towards the starry sky, and leapt out of the window, dragging him along. If Sephiroth forgot about the inhuman nature of his wing, flights always gave him immense pleasure.

Wings opened out, flapping and as silent shadows together they gyred upwards. Jet-black feathers fell, circling, to the ground, and perhaps tomorrow people would ask themselves what birds could have left them there…

They flew as flame-colored glowing skies across the empyrean; as celestial litany.

Fallen angels.

How many hours did their flight last? Sephiroth didn't count; time slid along the welkin with measured beating of single black wing, with sensation of Genesis' hand joined with his, with streams of cool wind washing over his body…

They landed on a rock just above the sea, which looked like the one on the day they arrived.

Genesis impatiently threw off his clothes, and stood in front of him, completely naked, bathing in faint moonlight, uneclipsed in his audacity.

Sephiroth felt heat rising, taking over him, as Genesis gracefully turned, fingers clutching at the cliff, his body arching, and slender legs parting in an eager invitation. Auburn head turned, flashing a demanding azure gaze at him. _"What are you waiting for?" _He could almost read the question in them. Sephiroth obeyed at once, slipping out of his black attire.

Genesis uttered a deep-throat laugh as Sephiroth's palms firmly settled on his narrow thighs, bringing him closer until his lover's back arched even further as if the redhead was impaled. Sephiroth violently took Genesis, wringing an acute moan from his lover's lips; Genesis' long fingers convulsively clutched at black stones, his head hung.

Bliss shot through Sephiroth's body, palms began caressing his lover in every possible way, merging with the effervescent rhythm of their passion. His fingers found the sensitive salience of his lover's nipples, rubbing them, making Genesis' body hot clay in his hands, hands of a creator that molded him into the shape Sephiroth desired. Making Genesis cry with shameless lewd desire.

Sephiroth felt flames rising with every abrupt movement of his thighs, filing him, and in turn compelling to groan with pleasure.

They were blazing and fading, fading and blazing once again, until red-hot lightning shot through their shuddering bodies.

Then Genesis fell to his knees, unnerved, breath labored, auburn hair plastered to his forehead; Sephiroth followed, tightly wrapping his arms around his lover's stooping frame, heat of Genesis flushed naked body burning every inch of him. Silver veiled them, playing as myriads of diamonds; raven-black wing unfolded from Sephiroth's back, shrouding their kneeling frames.

Rhythm of their breaths evened, hearts beating in unison, joining two as one.

Lightning shot through the darkness as first heavy droplets began to fall, trickling down the raven-black feathers of Sephiroth's wing as tears.

Yet neither of them moved.

Two melded as one. Two fallen as one.

Two forsaken as one.


	13. Chapter 13

Summary: A sequel to Silent Sacrifice S/G ending. Sephiroth and Genesis travel to distant places, meet their fates and fight for their humanity.

Disclaimer: I own nothing or no one. Why would I need to, anyways?

Pairings: Sephiroth/Genesis

A/N: warning: violence, dark themes, just in case. Genesis has a bit of a break down…

Sorry for the delay, but getting into '_my'_ Genesis' head is… phew… hard. Especially when he's like this…

As for my language – it is not English style, I've been told that before :). I grew up on old Russian poetry and novels. Can't think any other way since, and I understand it may be heavy and not modern.

Thus, seeing you, guys, makes me really happy ^_^.

_**Chapter XIII.**_

_**Fear hath a hundred eyes.**_

_**(Part I).**_

"Genesis, what have you done?"

Stern question rang in his ears, quiet and cold; yet to him it was as myriads of red-hot stings, driven into his head. His lover's eyes burnt as vitriolic pools, and the redhead dropped his eyes, avoiding Sephiroth's stare.

He wanted to be anywhere but here, with the man he loved.

Strong palms clutched at his shoulders, shaking him; his head flaccidly dangled sideways as that of a rag doll. Teeth clenched, eyes flashing, but he had no willpower meet Sephiroth's eyes.

_Don't look at me like that…_

Sephiroth wouldn't dare judge him. Sephiroth had no right to judge him! He was just like Genesis, fallen, a blind toy in hands of power he had no control over.

They were the same! Weren't they…

Yet that purity. Why was Genesis thinking of it now? Why was he ashamed of even looking at his angel as if expecting a wrathful blade of a holy avenger instead of an understanding healing glance of emerald eyes?

Understanding? He did not want to be _understood_.

"I am a monster, Sephiroth," came Genesis' tardy response; his numb lips parted, forcing those hoarse words out of his refractory throat.

And the worst part was that he didn't care.

_Some hours ago…_

Genesis was bathing in cool sea waves, in bashful rays of rising sun, in waterfall of his lover's silver hair. Genesis was sinking in his lover's heat, buried deep within his body, reaching his core with each vehement movement of his things, wringing a restrained moan from thin lips. Sephiroth's long legs were wrapped around his shoulders, in haste, in need, in demand.

Genesis wanted him to cry for more. To beg for more… yet that part was only in his innermost dreams; he didn't know what it could take to make Sephiroth _beg_.

Slender hand traced a line on his lover's abdomen, sliding lower, until that perfect body shuddered underneath, sharp cry following his shameless unchaste touch.

Sephiroth raised himself on two elbows. Emerald eyes with silver scintilla burned as wildfire in predawn mist, misguiding chance lone wanderers, luring them into deceptive quagmire; luring him into the chasm of never-to-be-forgotten bliss.

He moaned, finally bursting in white-hot flames and collapsed onto his lover, smothering thin hot lips with tired almost virtuous kisses, tasting his sweat, swallowing his laboured breaths. Their legs entwined as they rolled over and into the shallow sea.

Genesis laughed. His lover's soft silver tresses were everywhere as a huge wave rolled over them, salt filling his mouth. He coughed, wriggling out of strong arms, rising and falling back into knee-high water, palms and knees sinking into soft sand. Sephiroth caught his ankle and didn't want to let go. Genesis sat up, unable to cease laughing joyously; his lover chuckled in return.

Such silly things.

"I am in the mood for a spar a little later," the redhead spoke after he finished laughing.

Sephiroth silently nodded and Genesis leaned against his lover's wet shoulder, looked up at the sky.

The sun was rising, gilding the vault of heaven, dispelling stubborn predawn mist. It retreated slowly, reluctantly, gray haze clinging to the sea waves, hiding in dark clefts. Vainly.

Sun rays found it everywhere.

Nothing foreshadowed what was to happen. Genesis meant it to be just another spar…

…Grains of sand underneath his boots; it was the same arena they came to on the day before yesterday, trees showing green in the distance, light wind rustling in rich grass, only this time the park wasn't empty. No sooner had they prepared for the spar than a small crowd surrounded them, men, women, and children, all curious as to what would happen.

Genesis arrogantly smirked; he didn't mind. Actually he was more than happy to demonstrate his abilities. It was Sephiroth who often relucted against showing his talents; the redhead knew why. Normal people always feared the general because he was different, and it would not change.

Someone like Sephiroth would never blend with the crowd, not that he tried.

Long blade appeared in his lover's gloved palms, and astonished cries arose in the crowd. Now all eyes were glued to them, hungry glances rested on their lean frames; the crowd awaited a spectacular show.

This should be interesting, Genesis thought, taking a stance and igniting his blade. Muffled murmurs followed, gasps even, and he smirked, a self-satisfied one this time, tilting his head just a bit to get a better view of his lover.

His lover. Whether he was his rival or not… Genesis hasn't thought of him that way for quite some time, and wasn't going to.

The redhead was smart enough to learn from his own mistakes.

They saluted each other. Genesis shot a short glance at the crowd. A small dark blond boy in the first row caught redhead's eyes; he was almost jumping from delight, clutching at his mother's skirt, evoking another of his light smirks.

Raising his scarlet blade, he took a first step towards Sephiroth, then another one, closing in on his motionless lover, who stood as a marble statue, awaiting his movement.

What was it? _The first one, who strikes, loses._ Where did he read it?

Genesis had no time to dwell on the thought, because Sephiroth fell upon him, Massamune ripping through the air with a hiss and a blinding silver flash.

Something went wrong from the beginning. Was he tired after that sleepless… seething night or, perhaps, it just wasn't his day, but Sephiroth took advantage of his sluggishness at once.

His lover's movements seemed blurred, and during first moments Genesis was forced to retreat, barely lifting his blade in time to repel swift graceful lunges. The tip of Massamune raised waves of sand as it hit the ground, then falling askance, flashing as a blinding diminutive sun right in front of his eyes. Genesis dodged, yet not fast enough, feeling a chilling touch of Sephiroth's blade on his skin.

Cheers arose from the crowd, and Genesis felt it again, a strange mixture of hurt and envy. He wasn't weak; he just had a bad day. Why now?

He jumped upwards, delivering a short abrupt blow, trying to penetrate Sephiroth's perfect defenses, yet unavailingly.

He would not lose, not here, not now!

Something must have happened for emerald eyes suddenly narrowed, and his lover's face slightly paled. Genesis lunged again, but Sephiroth retreated, taking a few steps back, as if… as if trying to avoid the fighting. The redhead felt amusement rising, when Sephiroth froze in his tracks and lowered his sword. Silence ensued, grave, dead. He looked round the crowd, at suddenly stunned faces and wide eyes, realizing something, yet not fully, until…

Feathers. Black as ashen snowflakes. Why were the underneath his feet, unless…

Genesis finally comprehended what he had done. He had involuntarily called his wing, its dark shadow looming above his head as a thundercloud.

And then a voice rang in chill silence, that dark blond boy's voice, cruel in his childish ignorance.

"Mommy, mommy," the child tugged at woman's long sleeve. "Why is he so _**ugly**_?"

Small finger pointed to Genesis.

The world turned into a white-hot void.

Shin-Ra experiments, jet-black wing sprawled on bloodied sheets, degradation, parent's bodies in a nameless grave, endless fall in choking darkness, contempt, denial, trials and tribulations befalling them on their long tiresome road – it all flashed in redhead's mind in a split second. Losing himself to the powerful emotional maelstrom, Genesis lunged forward, abruptly turning on his heels, spraying grains of sand, fast, deadly scarlet lightning. He wasn't thinking, he wasn't trying to reason, all coherent thoughts necked into a single burning overwhelming order that threw his body towards the helpless frame of a boy.

The redhead heard an admonished exclamation, then noticed the whirl of silver in the corner of his eyes and felt Massamune fall on top of his flaming blade, lowering, clasping it to the ground.

Sephiroth never finished his move in time.

Dark blond head described an arc, landing somewhere in the middle of the crowd, now paralyzed by fear. Decapitated body stood for another instant, before tumbling down and landing in the sand with a heavy thud, blood sprinkling from cleaved veins.

Child's mother uttered a frightful inhuman shriek.

And then feathers spilled as black rain droplets from underneath his wing, dancing in the wind that caught them and gently lowered to the ground.

_Make way to the monster!_

Genesis wanted to scream.

…Familiar room surrounded him, yet he felt as if walls were closing in, draining him. The redhead was quivering from emotional outburst, from monstrosity of his act, child's blood, sprayed on sand, vividly carved into his heart, as a scarlet wingspan.

Genesis shuddered at the mere thought of casting his eyes up, hiding behind the faltering whisper he had to force out of his lips.

"I am a monster, Sephiroth."

Monster. No other explanations were required.

Lips curled into that studied ironic sneer, his only protection from that calm understanding gaze.

He did not want to be understood.

Perhaps, if Sephiroth slapped him across the face, threw to the ground and ruthlessly took right on the rough wooden floor, he would have felt better. It would prove they were the same. That healing stare, emerald eyes as pure faceted green crystals, unnerved. Genesis felt as if Sephiroth was judging him just with that forgiving purity, his lover's aura almost burning him. Why? They were the same, weren't they…

Fallen, forsaken, doomed.

"Are you happy now?" He whispered through clenched teeth with cruel yet hollow mockery; the redhead wanted to provoke his lover. "Fate makes us equal once again. I've taken a child's life… finally."

Yet Sephiroth was silent, and Genesis felt long fingers gently plunge into his auburn hair.

Was his lover mocking him?

Genesis wanted emotions, and all he got was that tender loving touch, that patient understanding look…

HE DID NOT WANT TO BE UNDERSTOOD!

Straightening and pushing his lover's hand away, Genesis rushed for the opened window and jumped out of it. He didn't even look back to notice confusion and worry in emerald depths, emerald with that unforgettably bright silver scintilla.

The redhead landed in the middle of the peaceful street, straightened, brushing the auburn lock off his forehead. His frantic behavior immediately attracted attention. People began gathering around, freezing in their tracks.

He shouted something offensive and immediately saw astonishment, fear… disgust even. Yes, here he could get all the emotions he needed.

Genesis knew he went over the limits; yet sometimes, in moments like this, nothing felt sweeter than endless fall.

"_Don't like what you see"_, he thought, smirking with satisfaction. _"How about this?"_

His hand rose to the forehead, shooting up to the welkin in a dramatic gesture, wing following, unwound with a rustling sound.

People recoiled from him as if he was leprous. Some began running away, screaming something incoherent, a dart of panic flew over, drowning every man and woman, turning them into an unthinking mass.

How laughable. How vapid.

"Who else thinks it is ugly?" Genesis' sneer was devilish, and those who were too frightened to move froze once and for all, petrified.

Just some mild threats and they would come crawling to him, begging for their pitiful lives. Hatred distorted Genesis' face; the townspeople of Banora – those traitors – were the same, not any different from inhabitants of Gwea. They were regular humans, who would step on their pride, who would forget about their beliefs, spit upon their dignity just to survive; no matter how, no matter why, just_ live_. Whores. Genesis turned on his heels looking round the frozen crowd, peering into each pale stunned face. Children of whores.

He would break them, as a back of a rabid dog. It would prove that he was strong, and they were weak.

They were _**weak**_**,** and he was _**strong**_.

Genesis' eyes flashed, turning into pools of liquid amber. Throwing his head back he was bathing in raw power of his ire and pain. It seemed if the last string in his mind was torn, the sky would begin to bleed, gushing in fiery tears…

And the whole world would go down with him.

The sword revolved around him, ready to strike anything or anyone, when…

Sephiroth caught the scarlet rapier with his bare hand.

Azure and emerald met, as two spears in a silent duel. Genesis tried to snatch his blade from his lover's palm but Sephiroth held it firmly; and even as blood began to drip from his wounded palm his stoic refined face showed no signs of pain.

His lover stood as a guardian between him and the abyss, which called for the redhead with renewed power.

"That's enough, Genesis," Sephiroth's voice was stern.

Enough? It was just the beginning…

_Out of my way, Sephiroth…_

Genesis abruptly moved his hand, cutting his lover's skin even deeper, and yet Sephiroth held and held redhead's sword in his hand, even as separate droplets of blood turned into thin carmine streamlets and began to trickle down his wrist…

The fire became dim, last embers sizzling as cold rain droplets fell into dying flames. Genesis reached out his hand for the faint warmth, freezing when thin trickles touched his palm. Yet the fire didn't give enough heat, and soon he began feeling the midnight chill.

He couldn't quite remember how he ended up in this forest, among tall oddly looking evergreen trees on barren soggy ground near the dying fire. Sephiroth was already asleep, his tall slender frame leaning against the trunk.

Last moment Genesis could clearly recall he was falling, and then ended up in Sephiroth's embrace, shaking and weak.

The world went blank after that.

Genesis shuddered, trying to get as much warmth as he could. Sephiroth had fled Gwea, and once again they were outcasts; perhaps, he flew as far as he could and now they ended up with no home. Thin cold droplets landed on his forehead and he absently reached out to wipe that moist.

He was close, so close this time. He was still close.

Scarlet wingspan on yellow sand. Dead eyes goggling at the peaceful blueness. Childish voice, ringing in his ears as funeral knell.

"_Mommy, mommy, why is he so ugly?"_

"_Why!" _Something snarled inside him_. "Because you created me in such way!"_

Covetous void inside him, darkness swashing against the cage of his mind, beckoning into its cold hungry embrace.

And a single thread of hope, at which he caught as a drowning man would catch at a straw.

Emeralds with silver scintilla. Waves of moonlight hair. Bare palm clutching the blade, carmine droplets tickling his pale flawless skin.

His lover. His humanity.

Sephiroth.

Genesis' eyes turned to his silver-haired angel. He was asleep albeit still so pure, so… beautiful. His injured hand with deep crimson cuts – as ill luck would have it – lay on his lap, and Genesis could see how much pain he caused. Unexpected hurt rose in his chest.

_Do you still love me, even after you've __**seen**__ who… what I am?_

The question rang pathetic in his ears, yet kept resurfacing, leaving him caged in doubts, craving for the answer as a hungry mendicant for a moldy loaf.

But Genesis couldn't bring himself to wake Sephiroth and ask that question. Pride sealed his lips as cooling molten wax of a candle.

Arrogance, pride… it always divided them; their unwillingness to show weaknesses, to yield, to forgive. They took instead of asking, walked away instead of forgetting, and they scarred each other deeper than any of their swords would ever reach.

Why?

Because without pride love was dust.

Genesis stirred, trying to get comfortable on the wet ground, shivering from piercing cold of night wind even despite his resistance to temperature changes.

Didn't Nebelheim teach him anything?

Yet moments slipped by as ghostly shadows, one by one, and Genesis was writhing with doubt in utter silence, broken only by faint whisper of rain droplets trickling down the leaves of unfamiliar evergreen trees…

Sephiroth got up when it was still dark. The fire was already dead, Genesis sleeping beside it. They had no chance to exchange even a single word since that maddening outburst has almost taken Genesis from him.

Rising and stretching his numbing muscles, Sephiroth came to stand by his lover, and then kneeled beside him.

He had no right to judge Genesis.

Long fingers touched his cold cheek, bashfully, uncertainly. He didn't know what had happened to his lover, why.

Yet the worst part was that he didn't know what to do next.

He was good at recognizing negative emotions; fright, hatred, anger haunted him since that fateful war in Wutai. Yet with love he still felt as a feeble infant, trying to take his first step without mother's support.

What did Genesis expect him to say?

He bitterly smirked, lifting his chin and watching the sun slowly rising, touching the verdant crowns, and playing vivid colors in clear droplets. The mightiest General of Shin-Ra was on his knees, all his battle experience, his vast knowledge a mere name now. He felt helpless just like on that first time he had to send his SOLDIER to certain death.

Sephiroth didn't know what words to speak and what words to keep unspoken.

_*flashback*_

Birth of the General.

Sephiroth's gaze was fixed on his boots as he was pacing along the line of soldiers. He couldn't bring himself to look up, meeting those eyes, knowing what he'd see too well.

The flap of his leather coat flew around his knees, and silver veiled his marble refined face.

There was nothing remarkable in those dozens of eyes that were now fixed on his back; just ordinary eyes, blue, hazel-green, gray… why did he remember them so well? Why were those young faces so distinctively carved into his memory?

Perhaps, because he knew they were going to die.

He knew. They didn't.

Sephiroth took another pointless step, then another. He knew what he'd see in those depths; faith, hope, awe. Their general was leading them to victory; they trusted him like they would trust their mothers or friends. They would never even suspect he could betray them like he was going to.

Sephiroth didn't want to look at them because he knew what he'd see. Death would smile at him through green and blue, enlightened with such vain naïve fervor.

He knew her cold and ruthless smile, her chilling touch that marked those already doomed.

He knew they were going to die. They didn't. That made all the difference in the world.

Hojo always loved to repeat that army was cannon fodder and soldiers were pawns fit to be moved at general's whims.

Would one pity a pawn on a chessboard? Would one exchange a queen for all eight of them?

No.

His mind agreed with Hojo, yet his heart could not reason with this painful truth. Each soldier had a soul, had dreams; each one of them had families or beloved waiting for them.

They were not mindless pawns. They were…

How could he make such a decision? How could he send people who trusted him to die?

Yet how could he not?

Sephiroth couldn't let his whole detachment to be lured into a trap; then - like during his first mission - fifteen would die instead of one. The only difference would be a laughable pathetic excuse. He wouldn't know. He wouldn't choose those who would never return home.

Sephiroth lifted his chin, made himself look at those young faces. Look, Sephiroth, look at them for the last time. Remember them, for there would be no one to remember this moment besides you.

The moment when the General was born.

He swallowed a lump in his throat and straightened. He needed to say something to encourage them, and yet all the words were stuck in his throat, his lips numb and unruly. Anything he'd choose to say would be a sanctimonious lie.

Steel slab slid over the well of his feelings, burying a part of him alive; fists unnoticeably clenched as he looked into his emptiness and there he's seen the answer.

"Unit six, assume your position." His cold dispassionate voice didn't betray him.

Good. He was learning.

"Yes, General!" Came out in unison, with so much pride.

With hope. As for him… a sleepless night awaited the newly born General. He would be sending letters to their families with hypocritical regrets and holier-than-thou words explaining that they died fulfilling their duty.

_They trusted me… and I…_

Sephiroth looked at his soldiers for the last time as they saluted and began to disappear. Bitter poison of his thoughts burnt, and there was no place he could hide from despising himself.

Faith, hope… they could indulge themselves with such luxuries. He had no right to believe or hope; he knew they were _not_ coming back.

Abruptly turning around he walked away, his face a dead stone mask.

After all, generals were not supposed to feel. Generals were supposed to win.

There was a first time for everything – a first time to kill, a first time to send his soldiers to die, a first time to see a bloodied massacre…The first was the hardest. Later it was easier to see, to choose, to deliver a deadly blow, and in time he felt almost nothing, every decision a routine, every wasted life a beaten path. He became the person everyone respected or feared; his opinion was taken into consideration by Shin-Ra itself. He became the perfect General. As for the price… the price was Nebelheim. If not for his feelings for Genesis, if not for Zack's blind devotion – faint reminders of his humanity – he would have seen no reason to deny Jenova. He would have given himself up, because…

Because he got used to.

Yet it was not the time to dwell on his past. Genesis said something then, something… important. He had to recall, because those words could be the answer to his question.

The ex-general had to remember the night after, when he was writing…

_*flashback*_

Letters.

Sephiroth closed the door to his temporary room and turned around. Darkness. He welcomed its soothing almost healing embrace. He was finally alone, away from those who always expected him to know all the answers.

What kind of answers could there ever be to those questions?

Unstrapping the Massamune, the General collapsed on the hard couch as a lifeless husk.

Like a coward Sephiroth fled after the battle when army personnel began to recover maimed bodies of those he had sent to die; he thought he could still see a faint reproach in their lackluster eyes, haunting him in the last attempt to avenge.

"_Why did you send us to die, General?"_

He fled, unable to bear the consequences of his decisions; next time he would have to show more strength and restraint. Next time… he knew there'd be next time.

They were pawns, and he was a queen, a chess piece still with someone's fingers moving him along the black and white lines of squares on a chessboard.

_They trusted me and I…_

He could repeat a thousand more times that he had no other choice. The truth was that he was not strong enough to have it.

His head was slowly turning heavy as lead, and darkness floutingly laughed at him from the corners of the room.

_Pawns? You are all pawns, one way or another…_

He had friends now, someone he could turn to. And yet would Angeal or Genesis understand him? Could he trust them or just like everyone else Sephiroth had met on his way, they would use those weaknesses and doubts against him?

His mind was suddenly set; he would not go anywhere.

He had to finish what he began.

One would think that the hardest part was over; he had issued the ill-fated order.

Yet it appeared to be only the commencement.

The general rose and headed to the table. There he switched on a single lamp and stared at the papers piling up on top.

Letters.

Sephiroth could not bring himself to fill in the gaps with names of the fallen soldiers, sign them and put into envelopes that were to be delivered to their grieving families; the whole act reeked of hypocrisy. His pen felt unwieldy as a battering ram, his fingers numb. Minutes went by, but letters lay on the table by his side, unsullied, virgin clean. And a small piece of paper was lost between neat heavy sheets, few words hastily scribbled on it in a choppy handwriting, so unusual for him.

_They trusted me and I…_

And so the General sat, motionless, head resting against his palms, until someone knocked at his door and entered the room without even waiting for his response.

It could only be Genesis.

The general lifted his head, watching his redheaded friend stroll slowly across the room to where he sat; thigh-high boots with low heals were hitting the floor.

"I heard about what had happened."

Rich melody in his voice was soothing. Sephiroth nodded, trying to show as little emotions as possible.

"Tell me about your doings," his friend whispered a bit dramatically, which did not surprise him.

Genesis was close now, and Sephiroth didn't notice when redhead's arms slipped down and casually lingered there, now wrapped around his chest. Unlike darkness that surrounded him, they were… warm. He didn't mind.

"I am writing… letters," he said as nonchalantly as he could.

"If you want, I can write them for you."

"No," he interrupted, finally picking up his pen. "I have to do it myself."

Genesis understood, adding just one more phrase that stuck in his memory.

"It wasn't _your_ decision. The person in you would have done differently."

He bitterly smirked. Was there any difference?

They died, and he had to finish those letters.

Yet somewhere deep within him Sephiroth felt that faint warmth, fickle as the touch of Genesis' slender palm.

His friend believed in what he had said, and somehow it was enough.

Sephiroth sighed heavily and looked at his redheaded lover etherized in uneasy slumber. His head hung, emotions reminding him of those he felt on Shin-Ra roof when he knew something was wrong with Genesis yet couldn't rectify the wretched state of things until the redhead betrayed him, and any remedy became useless.

When his lover woke up, he'd have to say something.

Only were those words Genesis wanted to hear? Or was he expecting something else?

Sephiroth did not know.


	14. Chapter 14

Summary: A sequel to Silent Sacrifice S/G ending. Sephiroth and Genesis travel to distant places, meet their fates and fight for their humanity.

Disclaimer: I own nothing or no one. Why would I need to, anyways?

Pairings: Sephiroth/Genesis

A/N: warning: violence, etc. And there'll be a brief POV switch to OOC character. ^_^

_**Chapter XIV.**_

_**Fear hath a hundred eyes.**_

_**(Part II).**_

_Silver flew asunder in crimson tinged ebony darkness, scattered by a strong chilly gust of wind, which got up out of nowhere. Emerald stars flashed on pale refined face, albeit all too soon fading to dark empty voids. Sephiroth's face was sad, his smile knowing when he turned around and looked over his shoulder as though unable to tear his gaze off Genesis, who stood just two or three yards away from him._

_Motionless. _

_Silver flew asunder, spilled as streamlets of limpid water over his lover's slender unclothed frame. The lurid reflection of immense fires hung in the sky, crimson shades fluttering on alabaster skin, shapeless and insipid. His eyes slowly closed, head hung, stoic face concealed behind the shimmering silvery veil. Genesis stood, looking at his angel._

_Silently. _

_A hideous deep cut disfigured his perfectly straight muscular back, thin red rivulets meandering along his flawlessly shaped hipline; a bleeding statue was what he saw. Genesis opened his mouth, trying to speak, yet darkness swallowed his words, his throat contracting. _

_Unavailingly. _

_He couldn't see Sephiroth's face as two huge carmine wings soared upwards from his mutilated back, unfolding like satin weave, spraying his face with drops of blood. Its taste was sickening sweet on his lips. Sephiroth rose, leaving Genesis standing in darkness._

_Alone._

Genesis' awakening was slow and tantalizing; it felt as if he got bogged down in a morass, trying to free himself, yet it didn't wish to let go. Every muscle in his body was stiff after sleeping on barren ground, and as he tried to stretch, pain shot through his body.

He was so cold.

Azure eyes slowly opened, surveying the scene in front of him from dirty flap of his red leather battle attire to the thick green crones and low dismal clouds. Mud and moist were everywhere, on his palms, on his face, in his hair. Suddenly Genesis wished for a warm bath or Sephiroth's embrace.

He could get neither.

So cold…

It has been a long time since Genesis looked inside himself and saw an empty void. He tortured people, he watched them turn into mindless husks with his face and body, their personality and essence being erased, he broke their willpower to make them send false reports, he enjoyed relentless pleasure his actions stirred, since monsters had nothing else to revel in. They had neither dreams nor honor.

Yet after his rebirth Genesis realized something; he actually had them, dreams. He dreamt of finding a remedy, of getting Angeal to join him, of loving Sephiroth. He incessantly dreamt of rising. Only means he chose to attain those goals were pushing him further and further down the path of self-destruction.

Such cold ruthless, but for all that trivial, irony…

Seeing these dreams didn't help either. All these grotesque twisted dreams, as if his mind was laughing at him, playing macabre games. Dying Goddess, bleeding Sephiroth, burning Banora, his mother, choking with blood… Blood, rivers and oceans of blood…

Was it because one couldn't commit a crime and live unpunished?

Sephiroth was nowhere to be seen; there was every likelihood he went to get some wood for the fire, yet that emptiness was more than frustrating.

What if his angel turned away from him? What if… pride never let those questions linger for too long, but now the thought firmly nestled in his mind.

What if he was not enough, from that very beginning he was denied?

The redhead clenched his teeth, trying to dismiss those thoughts with irritation, when suddenly felt his eyes upon him. Genesis' head jerked; he looked up, seeing his lover's slender frame standing out against a dark background of wet tree trunks as white pillar of light in murky moonless night.

Sephiroth froze, looking at him with the scrutiny of sadness.

Suddenly Genesis wanted to flee…

… Slowly as if each leg weighed thousands of ounces Sephiroth approached the dead fire and sat down. Each movement of his hands was deliberately precise as though he was trying to put off the inevitable moment he would have to speak. Long fingers reached for the weak fire materia, letting thin almost invisible tongues of flames encircle damp logs; they hissed, stubbornly fighting for their very life. Finally blazing flames rose, merrily light-heartedly crackling underneath his palm as he reached out for its warmth.

Sephiroth heard his lover shift and move closer, stretching his hand for the fire; their fingers inadvertently met, and Genesis flinched as if he touched the red-hot ember, moved away at once. Sephiroth finally looked at him, and saw the auburn head drooped on his breast, azure eyes concealed from his gaze.

Where was all his audacity? Where was… rhapsody?

Silence was unbearable.

"Aren't you going to say something, Genesis?" He finally asked, unwilling to bear it any longer. "I'll take no nays."

He heard a long sigh.

"What is there to say?" The redhead answered in that smooth ironic voice. "If you expect me to justify my actions, I won't."

Sephiroth shook his head.

"I don't blame you," he tried to put as much conviction into his words as he could and added, quieter. "I just wish to know, why…"

"Always looking for the reason… for guilt… What if there is none of it in me? Have you ever thought this way?"

Too much passion. Too much drama. Genesis was good with words; he was not. Sephiroth was ab inito at disadvantage.

He threw more wood into the fire, emerald eyes absently sweeping the glade, and returning to an unremarkable spot on the ground between his feet.

"Don't you care at all?"

His question hung in the chill air. Sephiroth could guess the answer.

Genesis gingerly stirred, and out of the tail of his eye Sephiroth could see his lover's hurt face and hollow azure eyes, usually of such radiant sky-blue color.

"Not much." Mockery in his voice seemed hollow as well. "What are you going to do about it?"

The silver-haired ex-general sighed.

"Nothing. There is nothing I can do."

"Nothing," Genesis echoed back his own words, only with a snort.

It felt as blind straying in utter darkness. What hadn't he said, hadn't shown?

And again just like in Modeoheim he could only ask.

"What do you want of me? To say I am fine with current state of things," his voice grew colder, "with the trail of blood that we leave behind? No, I am not. And I am not fine with what had happened yesterday either."

"What do_ I_ expect?" His lover chuckled, bitter irony ringing in every word. "I expect your eyes to open, and yet you remain as blind as always."

Their gazes met, for the first time since that incident. Genesis wanted to tell him something, yet he could not hear it. Waves of darkness foamed, thrashing against the impenetrable bastions in his cerulean eyes, and he could not see what hid behind them.

He did not understand. Genesis was silent.

Sephiroth's head hung, he rested his forehead against his bended knee, streamlets of silver flooding his frame.

Blind as always… Why? Why did everyone expect him to know all the right answers? Yes, he tried to make as little mistakes as possible, he tried to become as perfect as one could; he was the most powerful SOLDIER, after all, and that title carried responsibilities. Yet perfection wasn't fit to exist in this world, and he could be at fault just like everyone else.

To err was human.

Bitter were those words as he remembered the second half of the saying.

To forgive divine.

His flow of thoughts was interrupted by the sound of unfolding wing. Sephiroth lifted his head to see Genesis gracefully rising through the thick tree crones; soon his lover was a dot on cloudy sky.

He failed. Again.

And it hurt not because he was offended, but because Genesis needed his help, and he could not give him any.

Will Genesis come back? Probably.

Will he chase after his lover, asking to come back? No.

Genesis had to understand that without respect there would be no relationships between them...

…His pride gave in before midnight. The redhead simply rose into thin air, easily finding his way to where he has seen his lover for the last time.

Genesis could not take it any more. He somehow felt that if the void devoured him this time, there would be no coming back. He was not ready to give up on himself even if it meant yielding a point. Just a bit, he assured himself.

Sephiroth sat by the fire, his back perfectly straight, and it seemed nothing changed. It seemed he has spent all those hours staring at the dancing flames, thinking of something. It seemed Sephiroth just waited for Genesis to return, yet the redhead knew his lover better. And sure enough he noticed a map sprawled on his lap, as he was studying it in faint reddish glow of flames.

Genesis detached himself from the darkness, and silently approached his lover.

"Sephiroth," he began, words suddenly stuck in his throat. His pride gave in, yet not fully. Genesis wanted to apologize, but couldn't force anything out of his lips. He has never said sorry for jumping in Modeoheim, since he felt no regret; this was a worthless case compared to his previous deeds.

He saw it, the way his angel's shoulders flinched just a bit, yet enough for him to understand a lot more than his dispassionate voice ever reflected.

"Genesis."

Silver head turned; emerald eyes stared at him with… with expectation. He knew he had to say something.

"I… I am…" Goddess, it was so hard. Genesis dropped his eyes, looking at his boots. Yet that last word never passed his lips. Instead he just blurted out the obvious. "I came."

Suddenly Genesis wanted to kiss him, to close the void of madness in himself, but it was hardly more possible than after he pawned his word.

And all he had to do was say '_I am sorry_'.

"I can see that." Sephiroth wasn't going to make it easier, was he?

Genesis slid into a seat near his lover, tilted his head so that he would see pale refined profile and the ruby in his earring flashed like a crimson spark.

The redhead opened his mouth to speak.

"Don't," Sephiroth suddenly interrupted him, putting the map aside. "Don't apologize. If you were not sorry, you would not have come back."

Genesis cursed and thanked his lover's perfect logic.

Yet it was not enough. He wanted to know if any of his lover's feeling survived after he had killed that dark blond boy. No, he didn't want to know; he _needed _to know.

Sephiroth rose and Genesis followed, approaching him.

"I didn't kill him because of the words he said," he began quietly. Sephiroth looked at him, emerald eyes calm, understanding. "I just couldn't stop. It was too much, all we've been through, and now… this." Genesis turned around, but then decided he had to look into his lover's eyes.

"I don't wish it to stand between us. I… did not mean it to… happen like this."

Sephiroth thought for a moment, and replied with a barely audible sigh.

"It won't."

Such a short, almost nonchalant reply. Genesis felt former flames awakening.

"Stop hiding from me. Stop pretending you feel nothing," he hissed with fury. "Because I want to see them. I want to see you still…"

He stammered, taking that last step that still separated them.

Genesis didn't even notice when his fingers clutched the collar of his lover's gray leather coat. They were so close now; the redhead could feel Sephiroth's faint breath. If he could bridge that last gap, that last inch between them, their lips would join in a slow infatuating kiss, just mere thought of it sending shivers down his spine.

Yet something separated them as a thin crystalline wall.

Genesis lowered his gaze and took a step back, calming down.

"My feelings didn't change, Genesis," Sephiroth's deep voice rang quietly. "If you so wish to know."

Genesis smirked, but it faded fast. Suddenly he felt tired.

"Was it _that_ hard to say?"

Their eyes met. Emerald depths were dark as a deep trench, even as amusement slowly crept onto his lover's face.

"I will see no point in our relationship only if you betray me. I thought you knew that."

Genesis shook his head.

"Always the reason…" he tried to joke, yet his lover's voice and face was serious.

"Yes, always the reason, Genesis." He leaned against the trunk, folding his arms. "My old… childhood habit."

Genesis reached out for him, and their fingers slowly weaved; finally the redhead was in his lover's embrace as they sank to the ground, his body buried in his angel's warm arms.

His head rested against Sephiroth's bare chest, and jet-black wing folded around them.

Yet Genesis was so cold inside.

Child's face as a waxen mask was forever imprinted into his inner darkness.

…_He was stepping on singed ground, field, clothed in ashen garments, sliding away into approaching darkness. He heard light whisper of his long strides in the sound of rustling dust. Lifeless arched trunks surrounded him, burned apples still somehow hanging on the scorched branches. He approached one, taking the fruit into his palm, and it crumbled to dust in his fingers. _

_Genesis wanted it to stay._

_It didn't._

_Eternal wasteland. _

_Genesis looked up, watching the eclipse, as black clouds slowly covered the star of the day. He knew he wasn't supposed to watch it, yet couldn't take his eyes off the burning ring high in the sky. _

_Finally he cast his gaze down, noticing a momentary flash of silver. Sephiroth stood by one of those black crooked apple trees, its dead frame a faint reminder of his carefree cheerful childhood. Something was wrong with his lover again; this time he was wingless yet that deep cut on his back didn't disappear. _

_This time he was smiling, a cold inhuman sneer reminded him the one he saw at Nebelheim carnage._

_Genesis didn't want to anear him, albeit all his efforts futile as his legs carried him towards his beloved. Sephiroth took two short abrupt steps towards him and hot bloodied lips impressed into his own, sticky carmine liquid tickling his neck, getting on his tongue, filling his throat, mingling with the kiss. _

_Genesis wanted to wriggle out of his lover's strong arms, free himself, get some air, and instead he was breathing blood. He began fighting, hanging by a hair, yet Sephiroth's arms, always so gentle, crushed his ribs until the world burst in white-hot flames, his lover's mouth swallowing his shriek, his lover's arms holding his broken body, his lover's kiss turning hungrier, more wanton, bizarrely passionate. _

_Heat. Lips. Blood. _

_He was choking._

The redhead woke up in predawn darkness with a gasp. Nightmares again; he was used to seeing them, especially when he was slowly fading away. They were nothing, just other games this world played with him.

His mouth was dry, and he needed to get some water. A small streamlet purled nearby, singing its carefree song. Gently freeing himself from Sephiroth's arms, the redhead strolled to the brook, full-flowing after the rain, kneeled and cupped his hands. Water helped, washing away the unpleasant sensation the dream stirred and the cold sweat.

He was seeing them all the time now. Blood… rivers and oceans of blood…

Pay, Genesis, pay for every choice you've made, as none promised that the price would be small…

… For two days they flew to find another place to stay at. For two days they slept on bare ground and ate whatever the forest could provide them with. For two days they were so tired that by sunset neither of them had a desire to speak; they would fall asleep immediately after the frugal meal or without it, in each others arms or just side by side, covering themselves with wings as blankets.

For two days they were running away, hoping it would be enough.

And on the third day they found it.

Or it found them.

The war.

The village burnt slowly, lazily, fire raising thin pillars of black smoke, which hung in windless air. It seemed it was not the first time this settlement was destroyed. The houses were built from thick logs that bore clear signs of previous struggles, charred, and chopped here and there.

Sephiroth landed in the outskirts, folded his wing. Genesis was on the opposite side; they agreed to meet in the center.

Sephiroth decided to join the battle because then he had a chance to do something right.

A dead body lay by the dusty road, and another one by the burnt tree. His eyes didn't even linger on them; General Sephiroth knew how the war looked like. Unsheathing the Massamune he walked through the huge hole in the fence. There he's seen more bodies, with stab wounds, headless, maimed. Carefully stepping over them not to get blood on his leather boots Sephiroth took a narrow crooked street that seemed to lead to the center of the village.

The sun hung high above the horizon, dispassionately watching the massacre below.

The air smelled of death and burned flesh.

By one of the houses that was still intact he's seen a first wounded person. It appeared to be an old man in brown clothes; he was clutching a deep cut in his side, withering and moaning from pain. Sephiroth stopped by his side, shot a brief glance, then and there understanding that nothing would help him. A short sword lay by his side.

The old man gave him a pleading look, desperately made a reach for his leather coat, forcing hoarse words out of his mouth.

"They came from the east. We were not ready..."

Sephiroth nodded, showing he heard him.

Then the old man asked for the favor any dying warrior could ask another. Sephiroth fulfilled his last wish, ending his life quickly and mercifully. Few droplets of blood streamed down the thin long blade of his faithful sword.

…The battle was most severe in the center of the village. There Sephiroth saw more bodies clad in dark and light odd looking battle garments; among them few civilians caught his eyes. A house to his right was aflame; he could feel the heat and smell the charred wood.

As the ex-general stood, intently observing the scene thatched roof came down with a deafening crack, raising myriads of sparks. Flames leaped up suddenly and fell again. His right hand rose, shielding his eyes from the short bright flare.

And there – on the central square – he's seen first invaders, and first victims.

War could turn a person into an animal, wipe out any notion of honor, dignity or duty from his head. Those would turn into marauders, who looted the dead, didn't scruple to use any means, raped women or children and betrayed the comrades. Sephiroth encountered one of those in that village; that pillager made a fatal mistake, deciding to stay when every other person in his detachment left or was driven out.

He cornered a young dark-haired girl to a wooden wall; the victim didn't even put up much of a resistance, perhaps, she was beaten first. Engrossed in repletion of his want, the unlucky looter didn't hear light steps of the silver-haired ex-general as he approached the sight, Massamune in his left hand. Sephiroth froze for just a brief moment, bitterly smirking to himself. People rarely learned; victors abased the vanquished, not realizing that one day they could swap places, and lose. Thus the cycle of war was doomed to become endless.

Even being the greatest of Shin-Ra generals he never debased himself by humiliation.

Massamune hissed, ripping through the air, slipping between accumulated moments, faster than lightning, deadlier than reaper's blade.

The unaccomplished violator perished quickly, still with his pants down, never given a chance to comprehend where the death came from. The young girl shrieked as blood splashed over her face and the body collapsed on the ground at her feet. Sephiroth gestured for her to get up and flee; she nodded with hectic haste, haphazardly picked up her clothed and ran away in the direction where he came from.

The ex-general continued to skirt the square, stepping over the dead and occasionally checking the wounded for any signs of life, until he ran into Genesis. His scarlet rapier was covered in blood, azure eyes dark. It seemed his lover has seen more battle than him.

"I finished off the rest of the invaders." He said darkly, brushing the auburn lock off his forehead. "They didn't put up much of a resistance anyways."

Sephiroth nodded, lifting his chin. Thick clouds were sliding off to somewhere, obedient unthinking clouds. Gray pillars of smoke still marred the peaceful picture, but if it rained the fires would be put out very quickly.

Sheathing the Massamune, the ex-general replied.

"At least we did something right."

…They stayed at the village. It appeared that the girl Sephiroth saved from humiliation was the daughter of the village chieftain. They earned his gratitude; he gave them a house, since there were too many empty ones after some of the inhabitants fled into the forest and supplied with food and clothes.

Sephiroth thought they could get at least some rest.

He was wrong.

Genesis gently closed the wooden door and ran a hand through wet auburn hair with pleasure. At least they now had a house to stay at, a decent meal, and he could finally take a bath and change into something more comfortable than the battle attire.

He felt tired and broken.

Sephiroth sat on the bed, slightly wet silver covering his back; it faintly glistened on the gray linen of his shirt.

The redhead gingerly approached his lover, climbed behind him, reached out for the strings of his shirt and slowly undid them. Thin cloth slid, exposing his bare shoulder.

Tantalizing aroma of his lover's skin filled his nostrils as he leaned over, brushing it with his lips, clinging to satin warmth, its taste a siren's call on his tongue. Sephiroth's pale neck arched back, resting on his shoulder, wet tresses touching his bare chest. Genesis hands wrapped around his waist, and in them his lover's body opened up as a flower.

Lips found lips, pain joined with heat, monstrosity mingled with angelic beauty, and more than skin touching skin it was a bleeding soul touching another.

Such delicate chaste touch.

Thin curves parted, letting Genesis drink his bitterness, and share his own. Long fingers brushed against pale smooth skin, tracing circles on his chest, undressing him completely, lips clinging onto each other hungrier.

Genesis turned his lover's body, and they joined.

Genesis loved him gingerly, his usual temperamental desire curbed, caged in a fragile simplicity of this broken moment.

Genesis loved him tenderly, kissed him gently, stroke him softly.

Genesis loved him slowly, buried in his tight embrace, his lover's thighs rising and falling in bewitching rhythmic dance.

And Genesis uttered a faint scream when their strained bodies shuddered, woven in tantalizing craving for release.

For freedom.

Suddenly Genesis wanted to fly.

Jet-black wing unfolded from his back as the redhead gently lowered his gasping lover onto white sheets, as if afraid to break him, curling in his arms.

Sephiroth lay, watching him silently. His emerald eyes shone as cryptic distant stars. His silken silver hair smelled of freedom.

Freedom…

Such sweet, laughable delusion…

…She desired him, badly. His eyes were inimitable in their beauty, his face as that of a sculptured god, and his hair as scattered diamonds of first water.

She desired her silver-haired savior until she saw _what_ he really was.

She remembered how she stood glued to the window, to the picture of flushed bodies moving in slow rhythm, to the pale skin glistening with sweat, to the perfect back arching in hands of the _other_, to the jet-black wing sprawled on the bed sheets.

She saw something forbidden, something unnatural.

This should have never happened.

She felt desire. She felt disgust. She felt overwhelming fright.

She ruthlessly bit her knuckles, barely suppressing a desire to scream from genuine terror.

"Father, father, help me? They have… they have _**wings**_!"

She couldn't recall how her rigid legs carried her back towards her house…


	15. Chapter 15

Summary: A sequel to Silent Sacrifice S/G ending. Sephiroth and Genesis travel to distant places, meet their fates and fight for their humanity.

Disclaimer: I own nothing or no one. Why would I need to, anyways?

Pairings: Sephiroth/Genesis

A/N: warning: just the usual stuff.

I'm so honored you, guys, thought about ideas I've put into my story. ^_^ And two things really made me happy. First that it _shows_ that Seph and Gen are very close :) And second I am glad that you noticed Genesis' dreams are symbolic. As for ruthless beauty… yes, there is a share of that in my story…

_**Chapter XV.**_

_**Gratitude to a monster.**_

"_Alea iacta est." (J. Caesar)_

_(The die is cast)._

It was the smell, the strange mixture of burnt pine and stirring scent of Genesis' hair, that woke him. Sephiroth lay with his head buried in the pillow, inches away from his lover's, and soft auburn tresses got under his cheek.

At first he thought he's been _dreaming_ of the war in Wutai again, yet very soon realized he wasn't. Loud crackling noise triggered every alarm of his sharpened instincts, which made him into a deadly fighter he has always been.

It took mere moments for his perfect sight to adjust; emerald eyes swept the room, and the next moment his right hand was throwing off the covers he's been sleeping under and the left one was reaching out for leather pants.

The surroundings were shrouded in thick dove-colored haze; the ex-general could barely see the nightstand beside Genesis' side of the bed, other unpretentious furniture completely hidden behind the veil, which could only mean one thing.

Their house was ablaze.

"Genesis!" Sephiroth snapped, waking his lover.

The redhead sprang to his feet at once, looking bewildered, lost, and immediately coughed from smoke.

"What is going on?" He frantically tried to grasp what had happened, yet his hands were already stretching for battle attire.

Sephiroth's movements were calm and precise as he laced his boots, and clasped the straps, one crosswise with another. Gray and black leather coat followed.

"Isn't it obvious? They set our house on fire." Sephiroth felt a biting sensation in his eyes; if they waste some more time, he will not be able to see anything. "A fit gratitude after what we've done."

Genesis coughed again, covering his mouth.

"A fit gratitude to a monster," his melodic ironic voice was unusually hoarse.

Tongues of flames licked the doorway and window framing; the heat was slowly becoming unbearable even for his temperature resistant body. Beads of sweat slowly appeared on his forehead, and he absently reached out to wipe them in a brusque precise gesture.

The silver-haired ex-general felt no fear, just the usual calm cold confidence. They wouldn't die here; they had no right to.

Perhaps, outside the house was girt round with raging flames as a solid wall. If they were regular people, they would have already perished in this flaming grave, the truth so simple but bitter as wormwood.

A gratitude to a monster indeed.

Did they deserve it? Stupid question.

Sephiroth unsheathed Massamune with a flick. Nearing his lover, he began to gather his inner energy, weaving intricate patterns of his raw shattering power around himself, not too fast and not too slow. Their time was running out second by second as last indigo imbued droplets of water through the outlet of clepsydra. The roof could collapse any instant.

"Genesis, raise the shields," he commanded, and his lover didn't object. They both knew Genesis was better at using defensive materia.

The fire drew nearer, hungry tongues reaching out for them as if able to feel that the two of them were the reason they were called into being. Crimson depths quavered, and his sensitive eyes burnt when caught sight of blazing inferno.

As soon as glistening bluish cocoon mantled them, Sephiroth released the energy.

Laterally it looked as an ugly abscess that swelled out on the ground where the house used to stand. Its walls suddenly expanded sideways, broken logs, dirt mingled with raging scarlet and faint silvery-blue glimmer of Sephiroth's spell. For an instant it stood as a monument, which though would have never been born in any sane architect's mind, its equilibrium so fragile, as though the whole structure froze unsure whether to collapse back or explode.

For a short, almost unnoticed instant, Sephiroth felt they were going to die, and then the bubble burst, debris flying in every direction, followed by deadly bluish scythes. Some of them shot into the sky and disappeared in the black emptiness, others tore through nearby structures, blowing off thatched roofs, demolishing walls.

They were free. He deeply inhaled fresh nocturnal air with pleasure he didn't know could arise in him after experiencing something so simple and mundane. Chilly gust of wind cooled his heated skin.

Debris and rays of his power strew about several bodies of incendiaries; his perfect sight noticed every detail. Aloof from where he and Genesis stood Sephiroth noticed several burning torches and blurred frames. An iron bolt whizzed out of the darkness and past them, another one following. It appeared even easier to deflect crossbow bolts that bullets. It took just a simple calculated move of his wrist, and it fell at his feet, broken in too neat halves.

Genesis almost leaned against his back, coughed. Although he said nothing, Sephiroth felt his lover was in no state to fly.

If it was a choice between redhead's life and everything else, it was no choice at all.

Meanwhile they stopped shooting, perhaps, feeling perplexed or even frightened. He saw flames quiver and shadows disappeared in thick predawn darkness. They were not ready to give up their lives, which only served to their favour.

Sephiroth gently wrapped his arm around Genesis' shoulders, supporting him so that they could walk. The redhead straightened and weakly nodded in gratitude.

They made their way out of the village without more hindrance. None tried to stop them, yet Sephiroth walked as far as he could before finally collapsing on the bare ground.

Bitter wry smile found its way on his thin lips.

Flames and hatred were the only worth gratitude to a monster…

"_My friend, do you fly away now?_

_To a world that abhors you and I?_" Genesis' melodic voice flowed smoothly, alternating between well kept pauses and slow obvious delectation as he cited from memory, trembled with passion-tinged bitterness. "Do you feel how much it hates us, their rancour so blind, so implacable? It reeks of charred wood, burns as scorching flames, tastes of blood and ignorance. It lurks about in every breath of wind, in every rustle of dead leaves, in songs of brooks, and rays of resurgent sun…"

Genesis stood with his back to him, slender, clad in red and black skin-tight leather frame outlined against the empty horizon, touched by the rising sun. His right hand was raised upwards in familiar dramatic manner, his chin lifted, ardent azure eyes fixed on the bud of the palm. His pose was chosen so that the ring of the sun fetched up in his palm, weak rays gilding and caressing his long, subtle fingers, and it seemed that he held the star of the day in his hand.

He reminded Sephiroth of an actor, whose role was played just for himself, in front of an empty audience hall, his passions and drama so strikingly strong and beautiful.

Rhapsody.

Sephiroth casually leaned against the wet bark of centennial oak, watching his lover, drowning in the sounds of his beautiful enveloping voice. Although his amenity of poetry was limited, listening to Genesis always woke something in him. Even before the redhead left Shin-Ra his lover contrived to show him a part of the world he never thought existed, a share he would have never sought on his own, a side, opposite to the cold precise logic of science he was raised in.

Meanwhile, oblivious to his thoughts, Genesis continued.

"_All that awaits you is a sombre morrow_

_No matter where the winds may blow_… whoever wrote it was right, my beloved. The world hates everything different. It frightens, shakes its every foundation, and defies its laws. Yet more so it lets them forget about their own foibles; we are those who seem worse, _uglier_, ludicrous. Pack of jackals," he snorted with arrogance, gracefully turning on his low heels. Long stalks of succulent grass wound around his thigh-high leather boots as the redhead neared him. Leather of his coat faintly creaked.

"You are certainly familiar with the strategy 'unite against' when countries, otherwise having no similar goals, band against the common enemy, and…"

"You don't need to cite warfare manuals," Sephiroth interrupted him with a faint smirk, noticing a wan spark, illumining cerulean depths, a shade of its former flames. "It sounds a lot less inspiring than even 'Loveless'."

Genesis hemmed.

"I feel that we are their common enemy. Yet you still helped them."

Sephiroth sighed and his head hung.

"I wasn't doing it for them."

"Guilty consciousness?" There was a share of irony in his question.

"Yes and no. Don't you understand?" He said with renewed power, looking up directly into his lover's eyes. "I am trying _not _to become a monster."

"In their eyes you are no different…"

He interrupted his lover.

"I am beyond caring about someone else's opinion. On the other hand yours is very important to me."

Genesis couldn't hold out and ran his fingers through short loosely hanging silver tresses that framed his face, warm skin brushing his cheek. His lover's voice turned unusually deep-felt.

"To me you are not a monster, never were, and never would be."

Sephiroth slightly flinched, so rich the melody was, so jaded at the same time.

The redhead suddenly sunk to the ground, hugged his leather clad ankles, absently brushing a lush stem off his boots. When Genesis lifted his face, there was something different about him, as though he had cast his usual arrogant mask aside, and deep sky-blue crystalline eyes looked so vulnerable.

"I am so tired, Sephiroth," he whispered with genuine emotion, his pride wavering, thinning.

Sephiroth gingerly took a seat by his side, let his arm slide around his lover's frail shoulders and felt Genesis' head fall onto his chest, almost flaccidly.

He suddenly remembered a dead child on the sand.

"Me too."

…The chariot of the sun drove out into the cloudless undisturbed welkin, hell-bent huge steeds neighed soundlessly, their flaming manes coming uncurled so haughtily. The new day was breaking and somewhere behind them ruins of a house smouldered; another futile attempt to stop monsters.

Only he was not a monster or was trying _not _to become one.

Yet it still felt he wasn't trying hard enough…

They were expected. Was it due to scrying devices or other means of communication this world had that they never bothered to find out about, yet again they were met by ruthlessly glinting steel heads of crossbow bolts. It seemed this godforsaken province didn't have firearms.

Sephiroth repeated his simple but spectacular stunt, repelling a swarm of iron wasps' stings and as they helplessly fell around them, the crowd of daredevils quickly thinned out, some of them throwing up their homely weapons any old how, a certain disgrace to a warrior. They didn't linger there long.

… Genesis took his eyes off the seemingly peaceful scenery and furtively shot a glance at his lover. Pale refined hand reached out and pushed the wooden door; it yielded with a creak and his lover's frame gracefully slipped through the opening, Massamune unsheathed.

Who knew what could be waiting for them inside?

The barn was intact; it seemed to bear a charmed life while the house on the small hill nearby was demolished to burnt still smoking ruins. It was a better place to sleep at than the forest they've spent so many nights in.

Genesis peered inside. To his even greater surprise invaders left considerable amount of hay on the floor and it seemed like a Goddess' gift to him.

"I'll go check the house," Genesis spoke to his lover's back, which literally looked plated with virgin silver.

Sephiroth gracefully nodded.

… There was nothing much left from the house on the hill, just a black lonely frame that stood out against the crimson tinged horizon. For an instant or two the redhead absently watched the setting sun slide along the blackened doorway, giving it a pale blood red hue.

Genesis reminded himself of a vulture, eagerly circling low, awaiting the feast.

Few charred bodies lay here and there, scattered and mutilated; the whole family must have been slain. One was even pinned to the wooden wall with farmer's pitchfork. Genesis saw him – or her – as he skirted the ruin.

The smell was certainly far from pleasant.

It appeared the war visited this place as well…

The redhead didn't understand what he expected to find here. Survivors? Evidence of a tragedy he could gloat upon? He felt no desire to laugh, only plain indifference.

People died. It was natural.

Dark blond boy's face flashed in his mind, blood sprinkling from thin neck.

Or not.

Closing his eyes and clutching the charred wall absent-mindedly, Genesis recovered. He wouldn't think of it, not now.

If it was his choice, he would have never thought of it again, yet his memory was his personal hangman and it didn't bother asking about his desires.

When he came back, his lover was already couched in slumber. Sephiroth took his leather coat off, put aside the Massamune and fell asleep with his head resting against the huge haycock. Silver was scattered around in disarray, yet his lover paid it no heed.

His marble face looked exhausted, the depth of weariness only now evident to Genesis.

The redhead slid into a seat near him, placed his lover's silvery head onto his chest, tenderly toying with his short tresses.

He didn't even notice how blackness overtook him…

_Nebelheim was dripping with flames, choking with smoke, veiled in myriads of red-hot and orange sparks, reminding him of a swarm of little harmless glow-worms. Aidless lone frames of houses and barns torched, chains of flames eagerly spreading over to the neighborhood structures. The starless welkin watched the carnage with a touch of dispassionate boredom. _

_Why should it care about what was happening there, below?_

_Sephiroth stood with his back to him, his silvery frame outlined against the blazing background, enormous carmine wings covering his perfect and again – for reasons unknown – nude frame. _

"_This would be my tribute to you," Genesis spoke to his angel again, as an actor who learned his role and was compelled to say the studied words. Sephiroth's reply was as predictable as his own replica. _

_Genesis wanted it to be different this time, yet felt as a puppet, whose whole existence was limited to few steps and gestures here and there, arms and legs tightly tied to puppeteer's fingers. _

"_I shall destroy you," came a cold ruthless reply._

_Genesis could still see his lover's back only as Massamune flew out of the sheath with grace and almost disdainful ease. As a bluish whip it lashed his eyes; Genesis raised his rapier to parry the blow yet froze half-way unable to move, to lift his hand or even take a step back to dodge his inevitable death. _

_Sephiroth turned, yet instead, framed in molten virgin silver, was a dead boy's face. _

_Massamune finished its full circle and the world burst in red-hot pain… _

Genesis woke up gasping, ruthlessly biting his lower lip. He couldn't forget about this act, no matter what, all his efforts laughable and futile. Innocence was the key; his deed could not be justified by righteous anger. It was pure monstrous madness…

Genesis shivered, cuddled up to Sephiroth's body, stealing his warmth, desperately trying to extinguish the flashes of tormenting thoughts in his mind.

It didn't work, they kept returning.

What was his mother doing now, what was she thinking? Maybe, her feelings were like his own, should he watch Sephiroth die.

Genesis looked at his angel's pale refined face, framed by arching silver strands, crescents of thick dark eyelashes concealing emerald flames, everything about him so unbearably dear to his heart and suddenly realized something.

It felt as a lightning bolt piercing his heart.

Watching him fall in Modeoheim, Sephiroth must have felt the same.

Those thoughts were new to him.

It wasn't regret of any kind; after all, he did everything right. It was a sudden desire to apologize for the pain he caused, necessary yet insofar cruel.

The redhead uncomfortably shifted, propping himself up on the elbow. Asking forgiveness meant he was giving Sephiroth power to judge him, to forsake him and that wasn't something his pride could bear…

Slowly but resolutely Genesis reached out for his lover's shoulder and gently shook it. Sephiroth woke up at once, emerald eyes fluttering open, their silver tinged depths so soft, slightly hazed over with slumber.

"What is it, Genesis?"

He closed his eyes, slightly shuddering, and finally whispered.

"Forgive me."

His voice sounded faraway, and once the redhead was finished, he could feel his lover's gaze, even though his eyes remained tightly shut.

Long ethereal fingers gently slid along his cheekbone, back and forth, as if taking pleasure in every fickle contact with his skin.

"What for?" Deep velvety voice rang with notes of genuine confusion. "I thought…"

Genesis took a deep breath, fingers involuntarily clutching dry straws.

"For jumping in Modeoheim."

Again there was only his voice, as if the whole world consisted of those deep tender sounds.

"I forgave you a long time ago. I don't understand, why you are asking it now."

It hurt to move, it hurt to open his eyes, and it hurt to see his lover's refined alabaster face wreathing in smile. It hurt to kiss, Sephiroth's warm lips burning a lot stronger than unusually between his own, his refined neck arching in his palm so trustfully.

Why? For no reason at all. There had to be no reason for that. Just the feeling that flowed through him, shared with his one-winged, incomplete angel as their tongues touched, entwining slowly, ardor mingling, melting as the world narrowed down to sensation of their lips pressed together.

His kiss could only go this far, his feelings reached a lot deeper.

It would be his only answer. The redhead couldn't add more; he couldn't justify himself more, for it would be a lie.

And lying to his angel in moments like this felt worse than extinguishing someone's life.

Sephiroth let Genesis fall asleep in his embrace, and then gently, desperately trying not to wake his lover, rose to his feet and headed to the barn entrance, shaking off the annoying yellow strands as he went.

The night was delusively calm and peaceful, unaware of the pitiful remains of the bloody struggle left below. Cold biting stars glared back at him, and even those seemed unfriendly.

Sephiroth felt a little refreshed, his thoughts clearer, letting him take a sober view of the things. Not like his worry for Genesis would let him fall asleep anyways.

They were breaking, slower than it would have happened on Gaia, yet surely, step by step as if a turbid stream caught them and was now carrying in unknown direction.

He was neither fool to think that they were strong enough to withstand against _everyone_ nor a daydreamer to hope they would soon find a place that would accept them for who they were.

Sephiroth's gaze shifted as he felt a strange sensation. He froze, noticing a huge black moth that boldly landed on his bare shoulder and now was crawling its way to his wrist. Its soft wings fluttered, opened up, touching his skin; he's never seen anything like that before. A part of the world he would have never sought on his own, its share only Genesis was able to show him.

For an instant he harboured a grudge against the mindless beautiful butterfly for it didn't have to think and didn't have to make hard choices.

The ex-general absently watched as it took wing and soon disappeared in the night, black as the sky itself.

It couldn't continue this way. Something had to be done, the sooner the better.

Ever since he was a child he knew his existence was special. He was stronger, faster, smarter… deadlier; it set him apart from the rest of SOLDIER yet at the same time gave strength to change his life and lives of others, to mould in the shape he saw fit. He remembered how he was beginning to feel raw power that coursed in his veins, to grasp his ability to make crucial decisions, to understand that his dependence on Shin-Ra was – like most things in this world – dubious and two-sided. Although as the General he was forced to follow orders from higher-ups, they also hang on him, insofar as he was willing to obey. Without him they were bound to lose a great deal of their power and infulence.

Thus he wasn't used to run from any problem; he would meet it face to face, successfully or not. His helplessness now was more than dissatisfactory; it was intolerable. Being a leaf that floated on the surface of fretted water tormented him.

When he failed to save Genesis was the only time he felt like now, felt he was nothing, and all his strength, all his power a mere name.

Yet all of those words were easier said than embodied. If Sephiroth faced an enemy in any flesh, he would rely on his experience, fortitude and solidity of his faithful Massamune. But how does one fight a ghost, a mirage, a grey fickle shadow in the corner of an eye, shapeless as a cloud of predawn mist?

Despite all skills he possessed and perfected, his nature was not in his power to fight. Or was it?

The ex-general touched his burning temples and blankly stared at black velvety coverlet of the welkin, studded with multicoloured gems.

Right now Sephiroth knew only one thing for sure. The die was cast.

He had to stop running.


	16. Chapter 16

Summary: A sequel to Silent Sacrifice S/G ending. Sephiroth and Genesis travel to distant places, meet their fates and fight for their humanity.

Disclaimer: I own nothing or no one. Why would I need to, anyways?

Pairings: Sephiroth/Genesis

A/N: I am glad to hear you thought about Genesis as an actor. :) *happy*

And Sephiroth… I have to admit writing him is a little more important to me than writing Genesis ^_^

_**Chapter XVI.**_

_**Crimson mask.**_

_*flashback*_

Dreams.

Sephiroth's fingers clutched the wooden ledge of a boat that slightly wallowed and it rocked, reclining to his side, threatening to turn over. He heard Genesis mumble something incoherent; perhaps, his abrupt movement woke his lover.

Bright sun sparks danced on the limpid water, white-hot if he let his eyes linger on them for too long, illumining clear depths. The calm sky-blue lake was dotted with boats and weeping willows bowed over the water, their long branches drowning in pleasant coolness.

The ex-general smirked to himself, pushing off just a bit and rising upwards. When he landed he tried to step as gently as he could not to disturb the fragile balance the narrow frail boat still maintained. His waist length silver hair was dripping so he gracefully wrung it out and shook his head, scattering the satin mass over his frame.

Genesis lay on the bottom, basking in the sun, his pose relaxed, subtle fingers absently curled around the oar. He was indeed taking a nap before Sephiroth woke him. Fathomless cerulean eyes lazily opened, watching him, merrily sparkling between sooty eyelashes.

The ex-general moved his slender legs apart, kneeling between them; his lover's smooth heated skin burned underneath his palms, more so since he has just spent an hour in the lake swimming.

"You are cold," Genesis mock-complained, pursing his lips with dissatisfaction, which again was ably feigned.

Sephiroth tilted his head, letting his fingers slowly slide along the redhead's chest, circling the sensitive darkish knob, tenderly at first, his touch getting more demanding as he felt the redhead's body strain and a long leg wrapping around his waist.

Genesis hemmed, almost breathlessly.

"Do you remember that today is your birthday, Sephy…"

His fingers continued on with their game, heat and coolness mixing, his lover's goldish skin getting covered with seductive goose bumps.

"This day symbolizes only one thing to me," Sephiroth leaned closer, now feeling the unbearable heat Genesis' body radiated. Skin touched skin, muscle strained with muscle, perfectly bound, perfectly moving in time with each other, answering the sweet intoxicating need for pleasure. "Today I became a year older."

Genesis frowned, yet the crease was smoothed away the instant long fingers wreathed his lover's.

"No wonder I and Angeal got to know your date of birth only on the third year of our friendship. Yet that leaves me with a present I'd be giving you. Let me think…"

Sephiroth pressed his long finger to slightly plump lips.

"Things are of no importance to me; they break and tarnish. Yet all of this – and you – is the best gift I could have asked for."

Genesis smirked, staring at him with fondness, and then cited.

"…_But I, being poor, have only my dreams;_

_I have spread my dreams under your feet;_

_Tread softly because you tread on my dreams…" _

"You'd be giving me your reveries?" He inquired with amusement, kissing his lover, not letting him give any answer.

Sephiroth was impatient, demanding, and insatiable; he showed more power than tenderness, moving his lover's hot lithe lips apart, drinking his intoxicating ardor, masterfully gulping down his lover's taste, giving more, penetrating deeper, Genesis yielding, caving in towards him, accepting all of his raw subduing might.

"Some of them, Sephy…" Genesis softly moaned from sheer delight when the kiss ended. "Some of them are already yours."

He felt strange warmth arise in his chest. Their lips joined again, bodies fervently entwining; they were about to forget about the surroundings, getting wrapped up with each other and the pleasure that followed each sensual caress when the narrow boat violently wobbled and finally turned over, throwing them into the cool lake water. Genesis emerged, shaking his auburn head, blinking as he tried to clear his eyes. Sephiroth spat out water and chuckled watching his lover.

"Is this your idea of a birthday present?"

Silver eyebrows arched and the redhead laughed…

… The vision in his inner darkness blurred, retreating back to those depths of his memory it came from. Thunder roared in the sky as a mythical beast, drowning Genesis' answer in his ears, tearing him out of his peaceful half-slumber.

Emerald eyes opened with reluctance, slid from piles of dry hay to the wooden ceiling and lingered on the doorway. The door was opened and from where he sat Sephiroth could see the road covered with ugly furrows and ruts, dancing droplets of rain in mud pools and a tiny scrap of somber sky.

Doleful joyless landscape perfectly corresponded to his mood.

The thundershower monotonously pattered upon the roof and wind was drearily howling in the distance as a lone wolf. Until the shower stopped they wouldn't move.

When he was a child he used to have many silly puerile dreams. Sephiroth imagined a distant beautiful place where there would be no Hojo or his lab assistants, where he would not have to undergo numerous mako treatments.

He was happy there.

That image rippled and died once and for all shortly after Hojo made him take his first life.

He was a Wutai prisoner – border skirmishes between them broke up with enviable unyieldingness even then – and he was promised freedom should he defeat Sephiroth. He fought for his life with so much fervor, but his efforts were of little avail and luck.

It was his first veritable kill and his first haunting nightmare.

Later he got used to everything; his hand rose and fell almost automatically, enemies obediently died, his gaze slid along maimed bodies and nothing woke in his emptiness. It only meant he was stronger, smarter… special. Yet some of his dreams survived even this bloody slaughterhouse. And when Sephiroth recklessly let himself forget about them villages burned and children perished.

_But I, being poor, have only my dreams…_

Perhaps, the answer he sought was somehow tied to his dreams, or, perhaps, he was simply asking himself wrong questions…

Genesis stirred by his side, took his hand, cuddled up to him with his whole body. The redhead was silent for a while now; it looked like he was lost in his own world. After all, they had much to remember.

His question rang unexpectedly, breaking silence into myriads of melodic sounds.

"Do you often think of Nebelheim?"

The ex-general thoughtfully hemmed.

"I recall it no more than any other of my crimes. Why do you ask?"

"Just wish to know how you felt."

"How did I feel?" Lips curved with a smirk. "You'd be surprised. When last remnants of my personality were about to die, when I was about to stop hurting, to stop fighting, there, on the brink of the chasm I felt… I felt absolutely free."

Sephiroth's eyes closed and he slightly shuddered.

"Then why…"

"It was a delusion, Genesis." He cut off his lover sharper and colder than intended. "A delusion of a kind that entrapped me only because I was desperate. My… life lay in ruins after I found out I was a monster and I…" Suddenly it became hard to remember. "I took the first way out I was offered." He turned to look at his lover. "Yet some shackles are so worth to be put on and pain so worth to be felt…"

All of a sudden Genesis let go of his hand and whispered, interrupting him.

"They are close. I've just felt that." So this world had to have some awfully accurate scrying devices. "What do you plan to do?"

The indifference of this question made him inwardly cringe; Genesis rarely showed no passion towards anything, yet after that child's death it seemed his inner flames somehow dimmed.

"We will fight… unless you have other thoughts…"

"No, I really don't."

Yes, something was happening to his lover and it bothered Sephiroth, more and more each day. Only he could understand why.

Later, Sephiroth reminded himself, he'd deal with it later. Right now he had more pressing matters.

"I'll take care of those in front," Genesis shrugged listlessly, his only indication he heard the ex-general's words.

Together they rose and headed to the exit.

… Genesis was right; somehow they were found. When Sephiroth went through the barn door and into the rain he found their little sanctuary surrounded by a dense circle of enemies.

Sephiroth's eyes narrowed. They were rarely found with such speed or persistence; someone had to be frightened to half-death to send these youths to certain defeat.

Massamune flew out of the sheath and they froze in front of each other, one against dozens.

Yes, they were young and most likely inexperienced. If it was any other time Sephiroth would have avoided the fight, but the die was cast. Henceforth he would not run. He would fight.

After all, they were soldiers and they knew what fate they chose.

He would fight for this barn as if it was his home, his family and children hiding inside, as if it was the last line and he could not retreat any further. And more than a battle with those youngsters it would be a fight with himself.

They stood in the open field, rain trickling down their faces, their swords a laughable weapon against his Massamune; yet somewhere behind, cloaked in slanting streams of downpour, stood a ghostly figure of a warrior, of another Sephiroth, and it was his true enemy.

As many times as it had happened the ex-general almost always fled. He was afraid of what hid in darkness, behind his dreams, his honor, and morality. He didn't flee from enemies; in truth he fled from himself.

Jenova's cells, his second nature, urged him to destroy, to kill, their power threatening to burst the dam of his coldness and restraint, their call stronger when he battled and spilled blood; especially if he fought those who hunted or betrayed him. Then their demand would become unbearable.

Only one could not run forever.

The ex-general raised his head a little with haughtiness, silver-emerald eyes stared openly as he took several quick graceful steps towards his enemies. Sephiroth heard cries from behind, which could only indicate that Genesis got engaged into battle, saw fear sparkling in their eyes, terror reflected on pale faces, and then the world whirled in howls of despair and pain, in trails of blood that stretched after his long thin blade as it was frantically cutting through pliant bodies. Medley of maimed flesh, pathetic attempts to defend and the silvery lightning tore thought the front rows of dark-clad enemies. They tried to regroup, to encircle, outflank, outwit. Sephiroth scattered them as rag dolls; here and there a single wounded person would crawl from underneath the pile of bodies, frightful, covered in blood, and blindly hobble, shooting terrified glances at the silver-haired warrior who in moments like this looked like the god of war.

The battle overtook Sephiroth more and more; they dared to maintain resistance while what they should have done a long time ago was running. Precise chain of steps, twists and turns, tremble in his strained muscles, Massamune ripping the air in front, behind him with stunning accuracy mingled into cacophony only he had to power to discern into separate events.

The ex-general advanced relentlessly, not paying attention to little scratches that appeared on his chest and thighs. He wasn't invincible, yet he was beyond their ability to defeat. Massamune rose once more, repelling a desperate attack, and the short sword was knocked out of shaking hand; pale distorted face flashed in his eyes as thin blade carved a bloody rose on warrior's chest, and it bloomed, its color impossibly rich and lush for a mere flower. The body collapsed at his feet, and then…

Silence, thick complete silence, not a single moan disturbing its perfection.

Sephiroth looked around, at those who dared hunting him as if he was an _animal_, and felt familiar wave rising inside, a wave that foreshadowed the inner turmoil.

They hunted him and Genesis. They paid with black ingratitude for his heartfelt favor.

Massamune rose to his forehead; the blade was dripping with sticky crimson liquid. Blood was on his face, on his battle attire, on the ground underneath his feet, thin rivulets mixing with limpid rain water and flowing, soaking black virgin soil…

He had the _desire_ to punish. He had the _power _to punish.

It was too much.

The sky began to darken…

No!

Right fist clenched, his head jerked, glowing emerald eyes stared at hungry black protuberances that formed in the sky, reaching out for the planet in otherworldly craving to annihilate as though his gaze possessed the power to stop them. Gust of strong wind scattered silver strands and they cloaked his tall slender frame. Tight plaits of his willpower wound, trying to restrain himself, curb the power he was about to unleash.

He was no pawn, not Jenova's, not Shin-Ra's.

Massamune fell to the ground; right now the ex-general was helpless as a newborn child, and if there were enemies left alive, his life would not cost more than a rusty copper.

And in his inner darkness, in the bleak emptiness Sephiroth grappled with his reflection. Bluish sparks strew around as Massamune clashed with Massamune, silver flew asunder, and raw power met sheer might. They were equal, him and Jenova, perfectly matched halves of his personality. Human and monster.

None could gain victory over another, and all his brusque precise movements, powerful lunges, feigned retreats and tricks were to no avail.

Equal met an equal, and time froze as they did, blades jammed, grinding unpleasantly yet remaining locked. His wrist could not move as though a stone was tied to it, his own face mere inches away, smirking smugly.

_Deeper, reach deeper, draw deeper, from your heart... _

His legs gave away and Sephiroth dropped down to his knees.

Visions, memories he inherited, flashed in his mind; dark comet with ashen tail falling through the sky, peaceful blueness parted in genuine fright to let her pass. Calamity, his insatiable _Mother_ found another victim. And the world began to wither; trees died, rivers dried up, mothers gave birth to dead children and men flew at each other in amok. The world died, and free once again, Jenova continued her everlasting journey…

Those were her dreams. Not his.

He squeezed his head; it burnt as if real flames were raging inside.

Jenova hated everyone who walked, who breathed, suffered and loved.

He didn't. He accepted. He forgave.

_They are dullards, slaves; take your rightful place among them… _

No! He didn't want to hold that kind of sway over anyone.

_Let this power in, and you would stop hurting…_

And then a voice rang, melodic, so painfully familiar voice as Genesis emerged from his inner darkness, woven together from thin threads of his hope.

"…_I have spread my dreams under your feet;_

_Tread softly because you tread on my dreams…" _

Dreams. He had dreams and was willing to die for them. Jenova wasn't. That was the power she lacked; that was the power strong enough to break the equilibrium.

He hurled Jenova aside with renewed power, his advances picking up speed and ruthless sharpness and thin black feelers disappeared in the sky, resiling until it alternated to former dull-gray color.

At that moment Sephiroth sprawled out in the mud with a splash, breathing heavily. Rare weak droplets fell onto his face; his hand reached out to wipe them, scarlet stripes remaining on the back of his palm, and then froze by his side, limp and unruly. Warm numbness was taking over his body, over his every muscle and even as he wanted to smile, thin lips twitched to no avail.

It was his first victory, first of many, yet still…

Sephiroth had won by himself.

His head felt empty, light as air, and eyelids were heavy as lead as they finally dropped, and the sky darkened again, only this time blackness was soothing, merciful, natural…

Genesis gingerly placed his lover's body onto the haycock, resolutely rid him of boots and leather battle coat. Sephiroth lay motionless; thin scratches stood out on his marble skin, but the worst was his face.

Covered in his and enemies' blood, his lover's angelic face looked like an immobile crimson mask.

Genesis threw hay off the dirt floor with his boot, hastily dug out a deepening with improvised means he found at the barn, put some wet logs and pelted it with straws. This fire would have never burnt if not for his talents with taming it. Wet wood reluctantly hissed, but caught fire that had cold dark red tinge at first but gathered strength soon enough.

The redhead's movements were insensate and precise; place a pot on the logs, fill it with cold rain water, find a piece of cloth… He knew how to act in situations like these on the battlefield – he had to deal with wounded on many occasions back in the past, and he wouldn't allow enfeebling thoughts to overwhelm him.

Genesis didn't think of dead children, of disfigured bodies of his parents, of huge carmine wings, straightening out of his angel's mutilated back, of how Sephiroth looked so like a dead … – no, these thoughts had to disappear as well.

The redhead absently tucked his loose hair behind his ears, wiped rain water off his forehead – the roof began to drip – and put cloth into the pot full of boiling water. Wringing it out, ignoring pangs in his fingers, he wound it round his hand and gently passed it over his lover's cheek. It left a visible white trail on his skin.

Sephiroth didn't even flinch, remaining cold and unresponsive as before. If it wasn't for faint breath, that escaped thin lips, Genesis would think he…

No, he wouldn't think or make any assumptions. He would rinse threadbare piece of cloth and then repeat everything again.

Slowly, with slightly trembling hands, yet deadly calmness inside Genesis was washing a crimson mask off his angel's beautiful pale face.

… Genesis walked down the hill where the ruin stood, leaving the helpless frame behind, boots sinking in mud, and approached the barn. He managed to find a cellar, covered with heavy wooden lid, which invaders didn't notice. There was some still eatable food inside and he took it without hesitation. Previous owners wouldn't need anything any time soon.

Yes, more and more Genesis reminded himself of a black vulture, looking for easy prey.

The rain had stopped and Sephiroth hasn't awoken. Little changed, and the redhead found it hard to sit by his motionless lover in utter silence. First of all he piled the bodies and dragged them further from the barn, because if they were staying there for another day or so – which seemed a most likely turn of events with Sephiroth's state – corpses would start to rot and to smell.

Genesis allowed only short clear thoughts to pass in his head, like those about dead bodies or food.

He knew Sephiroth was going to wake up, this time at least.

Taking a seat by his silver-haired angel, Genesis reclined his head on the haycock and made himself eat some of bread he found although food got stuck in his throat. Then he closed his eyes, listening to whisperous sounds of smoothly sliding waters, thinking of nothing yet not letting himself fall asleep in case of another attack. Sephiroth's hand was in his, and Genesis was absent-mindedly playing with long fingers just to feel his lover's presence and stop thinking about how helpless his angel really was…

His vigil appeared to be pointless. No one disturbed them until the evening. And then to his unconcealed relief Sephiroth woke. Long eyelashes trembled and the redhead found himself looking into familiar silver-tinged emerald depths, simply as if nothing had happened, as if his lover just dozed off and…

"You are going to kill yourself like that," he whispered to receive a stern if quiet reply:

"I won't."

Genesis almost laughed even if the setting was inappropriate.

"You are weak as a child."

But Sephiroth didn't seem to hear him; thin lips whispered with such bleak resolve only death could conquer.

"I won Genesis. This time I won…"

The redhead shook his head. He wished for some of his lover's confidence yet couldn't feel it. He knew the fight was hopeless. He tried, on many occasions, he even found his cure yet the wing didn't disappear. It never would.

Genesis suddenly wanted to sleep…


	17. Chapter 17

Summary: A sequel to Silent Sacrifice S/G ending. Sephiroth and Genesis travel to distant places, meet their fates and fight for their humanity.

Disclaimer: I own nothing or no one. Why would I need to, anyways?

Pairings: Sephiroth/Genesis

A/N: short one again, before the important part. :)

I haven't had access to my computer for the last couple of days, and on top of that I'm having huge network problems, so… :)

_**Chapter XVII.**_

_**Silver whisper. **_

The color of water was a cold-blue, resembling the tinge ice gets high in the mountains when the light shadow falls, veiling the sun, and white-hot sparks dim, one after another, like brave little soldiers of a nameless army in a battle no legend would ever speak of and no man would remember. Then the ice would get that cold-blue almost harsh color. His eyes had it too, reflecting in the small river he sat by, looking down at his own face and seeing eyes only, dark mirrors into his soul, sharp-cut shining shards.

Gillian's voice was echoing in his head, and her words he accidentally overheard stung for reason he didn't know.

_Genesis used to be such a good boy…_

What seemed to be decades ago he was a different person. He idolized the role of SOLDIER and his own, but, hero or no hero, he proved to be a weapon, smart and deadly. And when his life span came to the upshot, he was served accordingly, with proper _generosity_ and _magnanimity_.

He was discarded.

Lips curved into a smirk, the changes reflecting in ice-cold depths at once. If only he hasn't been that naïve and artless. If only he's seen their lies earlier… his parents might have still been alive and many other crimes he's done inflamed by profound hatred, overwhelming despair and great passions evaded.

If only he hadn't fallen that deep…

The redhead reached out and filled the small pot with clear water; his reflection rippled, distorted with countless bulges.

He's been seeing dreams again, they were vague and blurred most of the times, yet two details were always the same. Huge carmine wings, thin as if woven from bloody red cobweb, and a deep cut in his lover's perfect back never changed.

Rising to his feet, Genesis shot the last glance at the river. Dark tree trunks reflected in mirror-like depths, giving a false impression of a whole new life being born under water. It was a beautiful sight, his ability to enjoy wonders of nature, of poetry never leaving him, just as he promised his angel.

Perhaps, this and his love for Sephiroth were the only remains of who he once was, of the person Gillian talked about.

His strides jerky, the redhead went back to he barn. A ruthless sneer was glued to his lips.

If this – or any other world for that matter – sought his and Sephiroth's destruction, this time it would go with him. The boy who was carelessly running in yellow fields, climbing arching trunks of Banora white trees to get the best, the ripest and the juiciest fruit died once and for all.

… Sephiroth took the pot with cold water he brought and quaffed it up. Pale refined hand set it aside and emerald eyes dimmed with pleasure; the thirst must have been killing him yet his silver-haired angel never said a single word of complaint. Pride, Genesis thought, looking at his lover with a strange mixture of feelings, pride wouldn't let him admit his helplessness aloud. Never.

This time Sephiroth was recovering slower than usually, even though he had no vital wounds. For hours he would lay, unbuttoned, disarrayed, dark emerald eyes staring at the ceiling, gathering strength to get up, clutching the wall, and walk out of the barn to get some fresh air.

After his lover got back from those short airings, he would almost be dead on his feet, yet in his stubbornness he never asked for help. It was in his blood, the habit to do everything by himself.

Emerald eyes flashed darkly again as Genesis stretched out his hand, trying to offer aid. Sephiroth abruptly tossed his silver head, thin lips whispered "_no_" as he resolutely rose to his feet.

Genesis stepped aside to let his lover pass.

"Why?" He asked, watching him slowly head to the barn door, his composure seemingly unruffled yet it didn't escape redhead's eyes, how his muscles strained, and the long ugly wound began bleeding. Genesis had to blink to shake the delusion, which felt more like a deja vu.

"What is my worth then, Genesis?" The ex-general replied rather calmly; his gait became more confident and even, getting that otherworldly gliding grace; it never stopped to bewitch the redhead.

Tall slender frame disappeared around the corner and Genesis leaned against the wall. For the last couple of days, since that last battle, Sephiroth has been like that, suddenly detached, thoughtful and resolutely silent. He wasn't able to get even few words out of his lover, not a single hint about what he was thinking of.

Only he didn't really need the explanation. Sephiroth was trying to find a way to rid of his second nature, but Genesis lost faith in possibility of such deliverance a long time ago. He had to accept what became of them.

Pushing the wall away the redhead followed his angel, halting in the doorway. The sunset sanguined the welkin, clearly outlining his lover's silhouette just a few dozens of steps away, shoulders and neck unbent and anguine waterfall of molten silver cascading over them.

Sephiroth was thinking and thinking.

Of what?

Genesis watched as a burning torch that was man only instants ago staggered and fell onto the ground in a heap of charred flesh, his arms outspread. The scout wasn't moving or screaming any longer, but the redhead still stood, absorbed in his silent contemplation. His hand fell by his side, fist clenching, and tight-fitting leather glove faintly creaked.

It was the third one in the last couple of days.

Genesis glanced at the motionless body one more time, then turned around and walked away.

His lover stood in the doorway, silver eyebrows knitted into thin line. He could see Sephiroth's pale face in faint silvery moonlight, thin crescent of the lamp of night barely visible in thick shroud of clouds.

"It was another scout."

Sephiroth nodded, folding his arms.

"You go and rest. I'll watch until morning."

"You…" Genesis tried to object.

"I can't fall asleep." Sephiroth admitted, although his angelic face betrayed him.

Suddenly Genesis took his lover's hand and pulled him into the barn.

"They won't be back for another couple of hours. And I… I need you."

Last words passed his lips in faint hoarse whisper.

The hay seemed softer than fuzz, Sephiroth's lips warmer than fading summer sun, lean muscular body, interweaved with his own, a solid anchor and as the redhead was pinned between strong thighs, breathing faster than usual, nothing else remained in the world besides strong hands roving about the body, haste hungry kisses and silver-emerald sweet with the smack of doom pain. Genesis yielded boisterously, and for a short while it was just him and his Sephiroth.

Nothing else mattered.

…Straws of hay tickled his damp back and shoulders as Genesis stirred, wrapping his arms and legs around his lover's naked body, letting his fingers slide, drawing patterns on smooth marble skin. These moments were perfect in their calm peaceful stillness, yet this time Sephiroth was tense, lost in his thoughts again, and the redhead disliked it. He wanted his silver-haired lover here, with him.

The redhead's hand plunged into silver satiny waterfall, getting a yellow straw out of his slightly tangled hair.

"I will have to go, Genesis," Sephiroth's deep day-today voice rang dispassionately as if he was talking about something ordinary.

Genesis flinched, and his hand involuntarily froze, fingers slightly straining, clutching smooth shoulder.

"Why? When?" He demanded at once.

Silver head turned, and immobile alabaster face seemed a plaster cast to him.

"I think I've found a way to free us."

"What way?" Genesis almost moaned with indignation. "There is no way."

Refined hand reached out to cup his face, but the redhead tossed his head, lips thinning into ruthless straight line.

Silver-emerald eyes flashed before dark crescents of thick eyelashes concealed those flames.

"That is why I have to do it alone. You don't believe in me, do you?"

"No, I don't," he blurted out rather straightforwardly.

Sephiroth sighed, freeing himself from his embrace, gracefully rising. His lover was perfect, always, in every movement, every gesture, so faultless it was easy to forget he could make mistakes just like everyone else.

"I shall fight this battle."

The redhead bitterly chuckled, sitting up.

"Nothing I say would ever change your mind. Right?"

Sephiroth put his pants on and clasped the belt.

"I have to try," Genesis couldn't see his face, yet suddenly deep voice rang with so much emotion that he felt a sudden lump forming in his throat. Sephiroth rarely talked like that. "You shouldn't know what I am about to do. It is…" He never finished. Silver cascaded over his lean frame as he bent over the hay, picking up boots.

Genesis felt his heart sinking.

"What do you think you are doing?"

His angel was silent. Genesis jumped to his feet, hissing with sudden surge of fury.

"What is it, Sephiroth? Some heroic nonsense again?"

Their eyes met.

"If I am not back in two days, I failed."

Simple as that; Genesis felt little desire to specify what his lover meant by failing.

"I can't let you go."

Gray leather coat panoplied his broad shoulders.

"We have no choice." Genesis opened his mouth to speak when Sephiroth finished. "Just like in Modeoheim."

The redhead dramatically threw up his hands.

"Whatever."

"Do you think I want it?" Sephiroth's pale mask fractured, demanding coldness in his tone shattered. "Do you truly think I…" Emerald eyes were suddenly close, overshadowing the surrounding, palms clutching his shoulders, and Genesis could have sworn it was the outburst of fear, well hidden, yet more so frightful, since his lover was always good at concealing anything. The redhead swallowed. "I know I shouldn't leave now, but… Give me two days, Genesis."

Two days. Two laughable days. He lacked those formerly. He knew how helplessness felt, how it was to sense the alluring closeness of victory, and then being denied the triumph. Such passionate helplessness.

Genesis curtly nodded. He would give Sephiroth two days to understand the hopelessness of such fight.

"I love you, Genesis," faint silver whisper caressed his lips, emeralds bedazzled, as his angel abruptly turned and walked out of the barn, the whirlpool of ambivalent mystery.

Goddess, what was he going to do?

Genesis clasped his hands to his face.

Sephiroth walked with no direction, not truly comprehending where he was heading, just one thought pushing him on. Genesis couldn't see what he was about to do. It was…

His steps were precise and measured, his feet somehow avoiding twisted roots and hollows in the ground, yet his mind raced in an unwonted cacophony. The ex-general slid as a silent ghost between dark tall tree trunks, his resolve adamant, even though somewhere inside him fear stubbornly nestled.

What he was about to do would be painful, but generals who were not able to make hard and harsh decisions were soldiers. Pawns. Puppets.

The night forest was unusually silent. Sephiroth didn't hear owls hooting or animals bushwhack to find a path towards water. It felt as if the forest froze in foreboding of evil.

Sephiroth frowned. He was chosen by Jenova to become a god, to rule the planet, the privilege far from pleasant, dubious and vague at best, yet it symbolized one certain thing to him. No other mortal was chosen for that role, which meant he was greater, both in spirit and might. He would withstand.

His resolve would not waver.

Light morning wind touched his cheek, disheveled his auburn hair and soared upwards, disappearing in sky blue eternity, frivolous wanderer and immortal harbinger of storms and blizzards.

Genesis yawned, leaning on the barn doorway. This place had become a graveyard of sorts, death lurking everywhere. He would have gone somewhere else, but he promised he would wait.

His lover was honest with him. Sephiroth didn't just leave like he did, with no explanation, in an unknown direction. He told Genesis the truth, as uncertain and as deplorable as it might be.

The redhead sighed. In truth even if he had reasons to leave, he wouldn't. He had little alternative, as did his lover – either to spend the rest of his life alone or with Sephiroth. He knew none would ever accept him with the black wing.

None but Sephiroth…

Faint silver whisper in the crone of trees, soft mournful song.

He hemmed. The wait was unbearable, the uneasiness tormenting.

What was Sephiroth planning to do?


	18. Chapter 18

Summary: A sequel to Silent Sacrifice S/G ending. Sephiroth and Genesis travel to distant places, meet their fates and fight for their humanity.

Disclaimer: I own nothing or no one. Why would I need to, anyways?

Pairings: Sephiroth/Genesis

A/N: My huge, huge thanks to sphinxofthenile. That passage about Genesis facing himself and the issue of self-defense in your letter inspired me to finish this chapter in no time :)

_**Chapter XVIII.**_

_**Wingless angel. **_

_**Part I.**_

_*flashback*_

The symbol of white Banora.

"What are those?"

Sephiroth took a step towards one of the arched trees, gently, thoughtfully running his long subtle fingers over the sun heated light-colored bark.

For an instant Genesis stood, dumbstruck, watching his friend's silver plated, crowned with bright sun rays, back. How can one not know about _dumbapples_? But then again, he had to remind himself, it was Sephiroth, and he was far from everybody. From those little tidbits he was willing to share about his childhood the redhead understood he grew up in isolation. And _dumbapples_ were not the only thing he was denied.

Like parent's love.

Sephiroth should have grown up a reserved, bitter and most likely cruel child, yet even though he was the first two, there was no trace of ignorant cruelty in his silver-haired friend.

Suddenly Genesis felt awkward, torn between desire to offer him comfort and not knowing any good reasons to justify his actions. He didn't want to bring up the topic about Sephiroth's parents, yet apples were a poor excuse.

Besides, there was a good question about whether his friend truly needed consolation. He must have dealt with being an orphan. Somehow.

The redhead shifted uncomfortably, approaching him from behind.

"These are Banora white apple trees."

He chuckled, in his restrained always serious manner.

"They look… odd."

Genesis hemmed, casually leaning against the curved trunk to face Sephiroth. For unknown reasons he had to see his friend's face; that perfect refined face, embellished with bright emerald eyes. Seeing his friend stirred strange feelings lately, more and more often Genesis caught himself staring at Sephiroth in… admiration, the one close to fascination with an artwork.

"That's why they are called… _dumbapples_. These trees bear fruit randomly. But the taste…" He closed his eyes, smiling a bit dreamily. The taste was the one of his childhood, not too sweet and not too sour, just the right faultless mixture of gustatory senses. "The taste justifies their oddities. Want some?"

"Why not?"

Shoulders garbed in white silk rose and fell. Genesis suddenly found himself wanting to touch them, to feel the smooth curve underneath his fingers, so unwontedly bare without the steel pads, and so… frail? No, that wasn't the right word. And those were not the right feelings to his young friend and battle comrade.

With all these thoughts still passing through his head, the redhead's hand was already reaching out for the fruit yet abruptly froze. He had a better idea.

"Come. Want to see my pride?"

Sephiroth smiled. He rarely smiled. He could be enjoying it, and wave of warmth rose in redhead's chest, following those thoughts.

There was something… special about bringing gladness to his silver-haired friend. Genesis felt he was the first person to treat him like that. When emerald ice melted, the dark veil in his gaze was raised a little, the strange hauntingly painful look gone, it felt more than special. It was… He flashed a smile in return.

He had no words to describe what it really was, besides one.

He was falling in love with Sephiroth.

… They followed the curved dusty pathway to the center of his hometown. Here and there they saw children running and people passing by. All of them knew Genesis; they would either stop by and exchange a few words with him or wave a hand at both of them in a cheerful greeting. During those short conversations Sephiroth watched the redhead silently, with a blank expression, and even when he was introduced all anyone would get from him was a curt nod.

Unlike his friend Genesis was seething with excitement; he hasn't seen his favorite tree for quite some time, and the idea of returning home, seeing his parents and getting comfortable in his rocking chair with a book was more than enough to overwhelm him with emotions. Besides, he wanted his parents to meet his new friend. But before that they had to try his prized apples.

And there it was, the moment he waited for. Huge purple fruit was in his hand as he stretched it out, offering to Sephiroth with pride and as he gingerly took it as if afraid to break, to break the fruit itself, to break the fragility of that moment, their fingers met for an instant.

"I…"

Sephiroth began saying something, but then emerald eyes flashed, and all that passed thin perfectly shaped lips was:

"Thank you."

Two words and another fragile smile.

The redhead watched him slowly take his first bite. It was symbolic in a way Genesis couldn't even explain to himself.

…Later, after the war with Wutai, there would be one more time Sephiroth would visit Banora as the General. It would be a short one, involving strictly business matters; Genesis wouldn't even be with him, just Angeal. Later, in a couple of years after that, Banora would burn, and nothing but the row of black arched gates into oblivion would remain.

Later, at Nebelheim mako reactor, Genesis would offer sun kissed purple apple to his beloved one more time. It would be just as symbolic, and seeing it fall, helplessly freezing on the cold metal floor, discarded by his friend's cold ruthless hand, would break something inside him.

Then Genesis thought it was the end...

Genesis Rhapsodos lifted his head, slowly taking his eyes off the unremarkable spot he was watching between his knees. His every thought reeked of bitter irony, its taste almost keen on his tongue.

He destroyed everything with his own hands.

No. They made him into a monster. They deserved every bit of punishment. They…

He pictured their faces in his mind, Banora townspeople, his parents.

Nothing. He felt no hatred, just a residue of former all-consuming flames kindling somewhere deep within.

He shouldn't have killed. He shouldn't have…

And then there was this child, who just appeared in the wrong place in the wrong time…

Fingers desperately clutched the wooden doorway. He couldn't condemn everything he had done. He simply… couldn't. Dark shadows of his past beset him, and suddenly the solitude became unbearable.

Why? Why did he need Sephiroth most when he was gone? Why did he leave him in the first place? Exchanged for some holier-than-thou search for freedom?

The redhead rose to his feet, went inside the barn and closed the door. The hay still smelled of his lover, faint immutable bergamot-mint scent somehow lingered, tantalizing him more than ever. Unstrapping his scarlet rapier and taking his leather coat off, Genesis almost collapsed onto the ground.

He needed to get some sleep, but as time slid by, merciful consoling slumber wasn't coming. The redhead wiped his damp forehead, curling up on hay.

Right now Genesis hated only himself.

_*flashback*_

On the brink.

The seafront was seemingly empty, only occasional passerby would slip past them and into the thick fog of approaching night. They were slowly walking alongside the sea line, listening to whispers of waves and enjoying cool evening breeze.

Their hands were joined; they didn't care.

Genesis has just finished one of his dramatic speeches about poetry and was staring at him with expectation, cerulean depths lit up with tenuous tongues of flames.

Sephiroth smirked; it was not meant to offend his lover.

"You know my preferences," emerald eyes slid along the wet stone paved quay, waves crowned with whitecaps, catching glimpses of rare moored vessels, weaved with thick fog, and returning to his lover. He had to brush a silver lock to see Genesis' face clearer.

The redhead hemmed, shaking his head.

"Sometimes I think you are too… " He faltered, searching for a suitable word. "Your tastes do not change."

The silver-haired ex-general returned a wry smile.

"Or rather," he parried, "they do not become like yours."

Genesis snorted.

Exchanging short quite meaningless replicas they came to stand by the moorage. Thin railing surrounded it, and Genesis immediately leaned against it. He came to stand by his lover's side, following his gaze, looking into the distance. Not that the fog let him see anything.

Genesis placed his head on his shoulder.

"I always loved sea. It is a beautiful sight, especially the stormy billow. When the gray shadow rises, darkening the horizon… I've seen it once, when I was little, with my parents…"

He suddenly shuddered and fell silent. Sephiroth didn't insist. He knew it was a trauma for his lover.

"I often associate it with wings," Genesis quietly continued, "with freedom." Black wing rustled, unfolding from his back, surrounding them, and the redhead's voice turned into a low purr. " Sometimes I just want it to be me and you."

Last words were a hot whisper on his skin. Sephiroth smiled. And so they stood, when suddenly…

He felt a stone hitting his shoulder. Genesis' wing disappeared, they both turned around to see a group of teenage boys, gathered not far behind. One of them was throwing stones at them, others laughing, saying something he couldn't hear. Perhaps, it was for the best.

Bolt of dark rage shot through his spine, long fingers clutched the railing, paling from pain. He was better, and those dullards dared to…

Pale mask shattered, emeralds erupted in crimson flames; it was so hard to restrain himself. The ex-general took a long breath, caging his cold rage. Just like in Modeoheim, with Hollander, he would not let his real feelings show. It was a useless waste of time.

Next stone that was thrown in his direction he caught with disdainful ease and threw into the sea.

"Let's go," he faced his redheaded lover.

Genesis flushed with anger.

"People create their own monsters, and should pay for it."

Sephiroth's thin lips twitched with disgust.

"They don't deserve it." His voice was ice-cold, as blizzard's breath; he would issue orders in a tone like this, and to disobey them was out of the question.

Genesis pulled a face, as if he tasted something sour, yet said nothing.

It happened at the beginning of their journey, when they were careless and quite ignorant. Later they never let themselves take such liberties, knowing the consequences all too well, yet hiding and fleeing always made him inwardly cringe.

He wasn't used to yielding; and it was Genesis' merit that in his inner fight between pride and morale the second often won.

Sephiroth took his palms away from his face, noticing that his long fingers slightly trembled. He was afraid, yet in fear itself there was nothing shameful.

He knew he had no choice. Violence and war were sometimes inevitable and necessary means, yet his acts could not be justified.

He had to answer for his crimes.

Sephiroth resolutely rose, unsheathed the Massamune, its silvery flash turning bloody red in warm rays of setting sun. The ex-general looked at his weapon; once it tasted Genesis' blood, now he was about to do another unthinkable act. Sickening enfeebling wave surged somewhere inside, threatening to breach the weir of his willpower. What was he doing? Was he actually… killing himself, just like Genesis predicted?

Emerald eyes turned into thin crescents, hidden beneath trembling eyelashes, silver tresses falling, concealing his face. Sephiroth swallowed, clenching his left fist, trying to calm down.

His had to give this battle and win it. He had to face his fate. The time for running was over.

It helped, a bit. He was good at restraining his emotions. After all, he has once killed his feelings for Genesis.

Single black wing soared upwards, shrouding the sun from his view as he turned and headed to the small house he found in the woods. Sephiroth clearly understood he wouldn't be able to walk, let alone fly. Sometimes all that remained of him was his warrior's pride, harsh almost godlike pride; after all, he was more than a human and less that a god, caged somewhere in-between.

He stopped by the threshold, looked back at the setting sun. Genesis' face flashed in his mind, desperate, distorted face.

_I can't let you go… _

Fingers, wrung around the door knob, slightly trembled. He would set them free.

Wooden door creaked, closing with a thud, light dimmed, silence flooded his ears, frightful in its perfection. Stillness could not be that flawless.

Sephiroth kneeled in the middle of the room as if before the execution, nonchalantly threw his leather coat off, firmly gripped the headboard with his left hand; rough wooden floor cut into his knees. The ex-general only lacked to bow his head, but even if he was to face death he would not bow down before it.

Fragmentary thoughts were winged and clear, as if he was thinking about another field operation and not about… about…

Thin curve hissed, ripping through stuffy air; it felt a bit awkward to wield it with his right hand, but otherwise he would never get at his wing…

Long blade cut through thick black canopy, huge feathers scattered in the air, blood sprinkled, smirching the unpretentious furniture around him. At first Sephiroth felt no pain, but as he repeated his movement, strewing more raven black, soft feathers and light clots of down it cut through him as a lightning bolt. Emerald eyes widened in agony, restrained moan escaping his lips, yet his right hand didn't shake as Massamune finally cut off the wing somewhere in the middle with detestable crunch and it landed behind him with a thud.

He was chosen by Jenova. He was strong enough to do it. He was…

Streamlets of blood tickled his bare back. Sephiroth saw scarlet stains and adhered feathers on his blade before it fell out of his shaky hand. He couldn't reach lower.

Sephiroth pulled the glove off his hand with his teeth, clenching them as he reached out behind his back.

It felt as a warm sticky fluff and it yielded to his onrush with another disgusting crunching sound. Waves of pain were now freely rambling through his body. Sephiroth had to bite his lower lip to break off another part. Scarlet rivulets streamed down his trembling fingers as he grabbed the last one, at the bottom, tearing it out of his back.

He was… strong… enough…

Pain and silence. Silence and pain.

His body was in agony. It felt as if he was deliberately breaking his bones one by one. Now cold streamlet slowly flowed down his back, constantly dripping onto the floor.

Silver-haired ex-general moaned, muffled toneless and hoarse sound breaking otherwise deathly silence. He couldn't take it any longer, collapsing onto the floor, bloodied, trembling and helpless. A long deep wound gaped in pale skin, remains of snapped bloodstained bones and feathers protruding from his mutilated back.

Long fingers clutched the leg of a wooden bed, warm liquid touched his cheek, his lips. Its smell was sickening. He flinched in terror. Too late. He had no strength left to move.

Sephiroth lay in the pool of his own blood.

Defaced wingless angel.

_Genesis stood in knee-high grass, his thigh-high boots drowning in lush verdant sea. The welkin above had a crystalline blue color, and in bright rays flamboyant waterfall of pure silver glistened, blinding his eyes. _

_The redhead stretched with pleasure, as if trying to hug the world. _

"_How long is forever?" He asked in a flippant voice. _

_Sephiroth shrugged. _

"_One can not know." His angel turned, smiling a bit ruefully. "Too long."_

"_And would you," his arms were already wrapping around his lover's waist, lips brushing pale arching neck, slowly, prolonging pleasure every time skin touched skin, "want to find out?"_

"_No. What for? The value of life in its finiteness."_

"_Humph."_

"_Disappointed?" With a faint touch of mockery._

_His lover's skin was smooth and velvety, his perfection tantalizing; Genesis didn't want to stop to answer, exploring every inch of his bare skin he could get to, the sweetness of delight weakening his knees, gently flooding him as rising water. _

_Suddenly someone tugged at his sleeve; he turned towards as if stung by a bee. _

_Little dark-blond boy looked at him with his innocent eyes. Dead boy. _

"_Genesis." His pale lips moved, forcing each word out of his mouth. _

_Horrified, the redhead tried to ignore the child, turning back to his lover, but Sephiroth somehow dimmed, became transparent. His hands hugged thin air._

"_Genesis." The child stubbornly repeated. He thought he heard a faint reproach. "It's time to go…" _

Genesis jumped to his feet, bewildered, gasping, trying to distinguish reality from another twisted dream, freezing abruptly when someone's muffled voices reached his ears. So he was found again.

The redhead smirked. Jackals.

He splashed his face with cold water to wash away residue of a dream, put his coat on and grabbed the scarlet rapier. He was ready. Let them come.

Genesis clutched the handle, straining, waiting as a predator for a prey until the sounds closed in and the barn door burst open, knocked out by a novice. He was the first one to fall.

No one had time to comprehend what had happened. Early morning silence erupted in deafening cries of pain. Genesis cast a fireball at the attackers, then another one. Burning trooper tried to escape the trap, blindly running into the crowd behind him, messing up the ordered rows, his voice turning into a howl and the faint whining, disappearing somewhere.

Others hastily rushed inside.

Idiots, the redhead thought with disdain. Bloody idiots.

Genesis waited until the attackers were inside and then flew out of the roof, cutting through its thatched part with his blade. Not wasting any time to give them a chance to recover, he torched the barn while flying. Numerous fireballs set the wooden structure on fire almost at once…

Only two troopers escaped the hellish trap. Chocking from smoke, frightened, they tried to escape, only the redhead wasn't that merciful. Scarlet rapier rose and fell, killing the younger one at a blow, but his hand stopped half way, sparing the second trooper. Genesis suddenly felt curiosity. Why were they hunted down with such persistence this time? Perhaps, this one knew the answer…

Genesis stood, watching the barn burn until the last cries of people being burnt alive died out. Then he turned to his trembling prisoner.

"Let's talk."

Emerald eyes slowly opened as if his eyelids were forged from steel, leaden silence flooding his ears. It was black as hell inside the hut, and Sephiroth's eyes couldn't make out a single detail. Wave of fright rose inside, refined hand uncoiled, groping for his blade by touch, involuntarily in a vain defending gesture.

Did he go blind?

His body reacted immediately, ruthless pain cutting through his back, effacing every conscious thought. The moan was born somewhere deep within, dry throat constricted as if squeezed by someone's hand, burning eyes widened, and heavy droplets flowed out of their corners, slowly streaming down marble cheeks.

Sephiroth reached out to touch his face. He knew he was crying, only those were not tears. He couldn't see, only smell and feel the sticky substance.

Blood.

His hand fell by his side. The ex-general had no strength to get the vessel he filled with water, and thirst together with approaching fever began to make itself felt. He lost too much blood, and somehow the bleeding wasn't stopping.

Sephiroth tried to move, eventually gathering enough strength to sit up, but immediately slumping, leaning against the bed, weak and drained. Silver tresses stuck to his damp forehead. Emerald eyes closed, faint shaky breath mingling with moans.

Heavy droplets were still streaming down his face, drawing stripes on alabaster skin.

Wingless angel wept for the world that didn't deserve it.

Carmine were his tears.

Carmine was the color of his freedom.


End file.
